


When Dawn Fades to Dusk

by CoverFireGoddess880 (orphan_account)



Series: King's Cradle [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blindfolds, Blood and Violence, Bloodplay, Broken Bones, Chains, Death Threats, Dominance, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Bonding, Gang Rape, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Isolation, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, M/M, Mild S&M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Post-Game(s), Pregnant Sex, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Sexual Violence, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CoverFireGoddess880
Summary: The Dawn has crowned her King, but shadows lurk in places the light never dares to touch.





	1. The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this marks my fourth multichapter fanfic story... I've gotta stop coming up with new ideas for a while:/
> 
> Anyway, this takes place after the end of Final Fantasy XV, so there are lots of spoilers. Take heed of the tags, please. Very important!
> 
> Here we go...

The bedroom smelled faintly of musky cologne and clean linen, but also with a touch of… cinnamon? It was a strange combination of aromas, but it smelled like home to the newly crowned King of Lucis, as he awoke rather groggily to the early morning sunlight sweeping through the dark curtains.

He groaned, moving to turn over when he felt strong arms hug him close to a broad, taut, muscular torso; warmth radiating so comfortingly off of it. The king chuckled, running his hand through his lover’s brown locks that had grown longer, but were nevertheless still as soft as they were ten years ago.

He gazed lovingly at that face, that warm, gruff, familiar scarred face that loomed over his smaller frame and made passionate love to him so many times in so many nights while also proving that he was the one and only man for him.

The king never doubted that. He never needed it to proven to him. It stared him right in his deep, sapphire eyes. The king saw all the things that reminded him of the love that they bonded over and held onto in those warm, loving amber orbs.

Passion. Tenderness. Desire. Kindness. Warmth. A future, a future that held them to its breast and never let go.

Ten years of having to survive in the eternal darkness brought that fear and doubt crawling back into the shield’s head: what if the prince never came back? What if the Chosen King was truly gone? 

But the moment he heard that lazy mumble at their reunion in Hammerhead, he pushed all of that out and filled it with the memories that were, and the times that were promised to be.

“Hey,” was all the king had to say, and Gladio’s heart leapt for him before his body had the chance to later that night. They spent the rest of that darkened evening in each other’s embrace, reliving their intimate vows of lovemaking: always close, always true, and always entirely felt in the heart.

It was what they thought to be their last night together before the prophecy was fulfilled, and the Chosen King sacrificed to banish the Accursed Immortal forever. But it was not to be.

The glorious dawn arising over the hills after a decade of loss and turmoil, lead to new promises. A hope that shined through, never to be forgotten as the last King of Lucis stumbled weakly down the steps of the Citadel.

His eyes rimmed red from exhaustion, his hair messy and askew, his scruffy face weary and stained with mud and dirt; his kingly garment torn and burned from his confrontation with the fickle fire god, Ifrit.

His knees shook, signalling that his whole body was tired and finished. He was ready to give in to his long overdue slumber that beckoned him from beyond. Finally, he fell to his knees, and cried into the dark, crumbling city around him.

His fated battle with Ardyn Lucis Caelum had taken its toll on him, and he felt as though he were truly at his absolute end; being wracked with heavy sobs and the pain and aching from so much overwhelming power and magic.

Through it all, he knew he had done his part. He, no, they had won. The whole world slept in victorious silence that night as they awaited the promised dawn to come and cast out the darkness. The king soon lost consciousness after crying out into the heavens with such fervor and such thankfulness that he was alive.

He lived. He was free to choose, to live and to love. But he swore he would never forget the sacrifices made in his stead by both loved ones and dear friends. He hoped his father was watching over him the moment he set foot in Insomnia, and claimed back his rightful throne.

His father, who sent him off on a different path that led to life. It was the greatest thing he ever did, and the king thanked the man before him: his loving father.

And Luna… he prayed she was happy, wherever she was. He knew all she wished for him was the same. He promised her they would see each other again one day, but it was not that day. She wanted him to go on. To live every day to the fullest.

And he would do just that in her honor, her sacrifice.

The gods sure had a funny way of changing their minds.

The king lay sleepily in his shield’s limp arms, watching the steady rise and fall of his lover’s chiseled torso, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his slightly parted lips. He gently scooted up a little higher on the fluffy pillows so he could run all ten fingers through his lover’s silken hair, kissing the top of his messy nest of browns.

Gladio groaned through a small grin, squinting through bleary eyes to wrap his broad arms around the small of his lover’s smooth back, reveling in the feel of his king’s thin fingers tickling his scalp. “Mmm…” he grumbled, snuggling closer to his lover’s soft breast, kissing his collarbone. “If this a dream, don’t wake me up…”

The king smirked, snickering through a breathy moan as Gladio’s beard lightly brushed over one of his perky nipples. “It’s not a dream, love, but it’s way too damn early in the morning,” he purred into his shield's brown locks. “Shouldn’t’ve kept me up so late last night.”

“YOU shouldn’t have begged me for more if you wanted to sleep in today,” he retorted with a low chuckle, slowly slipping back into sleep.

The king hugged his lover’s head close to his thumping heart, leaning into his ear. He blew some loose strands away from it and gently sucked on it. “Kiss me,” he demanded.

“Not now,” Gladio uttered, trying to hold back a yawn. “Sleep.”

“I’m too awake now to go back to sleep. I need you…”

“For what?” He asked anyway, even though he knew what his lover was hinting at.

“To help me fall back to sleep,” he whispered, passion lacing his lazy tone as he swung a leg over his lover’s waist.

Gladio sloppily kissed and licked at the king’s chest, eliciting a lewd moan from that mouth he loved so much buried in his hair. “Any special requests, Your Majesty?”

“Mm-hm… ungh… do that thing you did last night,” he mumbled breathily.

“As you wish, beautiful.”

Gladio slowly slid out from the king’s arms and down underneath the covers where he twirled his hot tongue around his lover’s tip, gently kneading his hips. Those coarse beard hairs brushing up against his inner thighs sent shivers up the king’s spine.

“Ooohhhh, yes, that!” The younger man threw his head back into the pillow, spreading his legs further to give Gladio more access. He arched and bucked into Gladio’s mouth as he took the king’s entire length, sucking it and grazing his shaft with his teeth. The older man happily swallowed some of the milky fluid that leaked out of his lover before initiating a push and pull motion, taking him all the way to the back of the shield’s throat.

Gladio choked a bit, coughing through his full mouth as his lover’s hardening cock bobbed up and down.

“Don’t choke yourself, love- oh, gods…ooooohhhhh, gods!” The king bucked higher into his lover’s hot, wet mouth as he tried to remind him of the obvious; he moaned uncontrollably. “Gladio!”

He sucked harder and harder, moving his head with the king’s bucking motions. Gladio’s saliva mixed with his lover’s pre-seed dripped out of the corners of his mouth, slipping onto the soiled sheets from the night before. He slid his tongue back and forth along the king’s quivering shaft, making wet, lapping sounds as he sped up his pushing and pulling. His broad palms tenderly kneading the king’s hips and sliding down to caress his shaky thighs.

The king tossed his head to the side, panting hard as he gripped at the sheets with one hand, and pulled on Gladio’s hair to bring him in closer with the other. “Gladio, more. Gods, please, more,” he begged, a higher pitch taking the place of his deeper voice.

Gladio did just that as more white seed leaked onto his tongue, threatening to come all the way. He felt the change in his lover’s movements down his throat from pleasurable arching, to desperate bucking as his stiff cock spilt even more fluid into his mouth. It wasn’t just the way his lover writhed underneath his hands, it was those sounds he was making. Every time he moaned his lover’s name and threw his raven crown back onto the pillows, it gave Gladio rise to an even harder erection.

The larger man wanted more of him. He wanted to be inside of him, thrusting and pulling and pushing until his king was at his most desperate peak: clawing his back, shivering with promised release, screaming his name over and over again as his legs would fall open, giving the shield all the room he needed to ride out, higher than ever, the most wonderful, euphoric moment with his king.

But gentleness and patience came first with Gladio. He, in all the times the two of them enjoyed their sex together, was never rough or forceful. He waited for his king, letting him have all the pleasure in choosing how he wanted to be loved and fondled. Patience had been like a solemn vow during those ten years in the darkness, his heart longing for the presence of his lover once again. But now, here he was, in his arms. His king was here, at the mercy of all the things he wanted to do to him.

No words could describe how beautiful the king looked to him now: his longer raven locks cascading the sides of his scruffy cheeks, the aged lines that crinkled at the corners of his lips whenever he smiled; he couldn’t deny the heat that rose in his pants at the sound of the king’s deep laughter. Watching him from below was like a glimpse of paradise: his king, vulnerably naked and sprawled out in front of him. He could see every side of his lover and he loved every inch of him. Pale, flawless flesh that glistened as sweat formed a sheen all over his body during intercourse, deep, lustful blue orbs that seemed to peer right into the man’s soul, softly toned thighs that quivered whenever he ran his hands down them…

He was just beautiful. Whether he was 20 again or aging past 30, it made no difference to the shield. They were in love and that’s all that mattered.

The last slick slide up his lover’s shaft made all of the king’s milky fluid come spilling forth, most of it swallowed gratefully by the older man’s smiling lips while some dripped down his rough beard. The king pushed up off the bed for a second, screaming his lover’s name breathlessly as his seed shot out and his hips shook. Gladio finally pulled back with a satisfying slap of his tongue against the tip of his lover’s quivering cock.

Taking a few minutes to catch their breath, Gladio sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth and heaving heavy breaths as he lovingly watched the king slowly begin to breathe normally, lying on his back all covered in sweat.

His eyes were closed as he relished the feeling of Gladio’s hot, tender lips on him, his cock descending and softening again. “Gladio,” he murmured breathlessly, reaching for his lover. Opening his eyes, the king smiled at the larger man under the covers, whose amber eyes seemed to glow in the dark.

Seeing those beautiful sapphires beckoning to him, Gladio wasted no time as he crawled on top of him, caging him between his broad legs and his toned, tattooed arms. His radiant, oppressive body heat made the king whine and shift his hips a little to align his opening with Gladio’s heavy cock as he wrapped his arms around his neck. Gladio grinned, sweeping some of his lover’s raven bangs away from his face. 

“Even after all these years, you still manage to turn me on with one look from those beautiful baby blues,” he said, gazing right into his lover’s half-lidded eyes.

“Glad I haven’t lost my touch,” the king hummed, holding himself up on his elbows to peck his lover’s swollen lips. He tasted himself as Gladio returned the kiss. “Was it… alright?”

Gladio chuckled softly, leaning down further to gently push his lover back onto the bed. “Anything I do with you is amazing.”

“Is your throat sore?”

“Little bit.”

The king moved onto his side, avoiding Gladio’s gaze. “Maybe we should go to sleep now then.”

“Stop it,” the larger man sighed.

“Stop what?”

“Stop doubting everything. You’re so afraid of being with me now. What’s goin’ on with you?”

The king glanced over his shoulder, looking puzzled. “What are you talking about? All I said was that we should go back to sleep. If you think about it, I’ve only slept for 3 hours. You kept me up till 4 o’clock in the morning.”

Gladio grumbled. “Don’t blame this on not getting enough sleep. I know what you’re really thinking about and I want you to cut it out, alright?”

“The hell do you mean?”

The shield laid comfortably back down on his side of the bed. “You hesitate with every little thing, like when you asked me if you were ‘alright’. Why wouldn’t you be alright? I told you, you were amazing.”

The king threw his hand up in irritation. “What’s wrong with asking you that? I just wanted to know if you hurt yourself, okay? It’s not a big deal. I don’t want you suffocating because of me.”

“How come you never asked me that before?”

“Before what?”

“Before you left,” he said plainly.

Trying to ignore the question, the king scooted away to the opposite edge of the bed with his back to his lover. “Why is it such a problem? I don’t hesitate with everything, just this because it’s only our second time doing that kind of thing.”

“It’s not just this and you know it,” Gladio huffed, propping his head up on his elbow. “Ever since you came back, it’s been this way. Every time we have sex, you act all hesitant and scared like you’re gonna hurt me. Why? I wanna know.” His voice rose with each word.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his tone as calm as ever. “And keep your voice down. You’re too loud.”

“If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t be doing it, now would you?”

The king bit his lip, wanting to keep up this little charade as long as he could. But Gladio saw right through him, just like he always had. He knew he lost this game. “I guess it’s just… this all doesn’t feel real to me yet… and if for some reason we can’t keep it, then I don’t want to leave any part of myself behind with you,” he came out clearly, turning over onto his back. “The last thing I want is for you to wallow in sadness for the rest of your life, Gladio, on account of me.” He looked deeply into Gladio’s unwavering stare, willing him to understand.

Gladio smiled knowingly, rolling on top of his lover once again. “Remember what you said when you left us on the steps of the Citadel?”

The king nodded.

“You told us to take care of the rest. And since the gods were selfless enough to give you back to us, then that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m here to take care of you. They gave you back to me and I’m not letting you go.”

His lover studied the shield’s face carefully, listening to every word.

Gladio continued, a tender gleam in his ambers. “I swore an oath to you many years ago to protect you and keep you from harm. You’re here now and I’m holding up to that oath till the day I die. So don’t you worry, or doubt, or hesitate in showing any love for me, because I’m not leaving you and you’re not ever leaving me again. You got that? I’m your friend, your shield, and your lover for now and forever.”

Tears welled up in the king’s blue orbs when he heard all the promises nestled in every word that left his lover’s lips. “Gladio, make love to me.”

It was more of a request than a command as Gladio wiped away a tear rolling down his lover’s stubbled cheek, cupping it and pressing a kiss to it. “I missed you, Noct.”

“I missed you too,” his breath hitched as he fought back more tears.

Gladio began his caresses with kissing his king’s knuckles then trailing up his arm, sucking at his shoulder before moving to his neck, lingering on his throat and licking around to his nape. Noctis leaned his head back with a sigh, welcoming Gladio’s loving motions as the shield’s warm hands smoothed over his bare belly, gently kneading his sides. It tickled the king’s sensitive skin and made him laugh.

“Still ticklish, huh?” Gladio teased him some more by crawling his fingers up and down Noctis’s sides, earning a hardy chuckle from his lover.

“No no, stop! Stop- ahahahaha!” He squirmed and writhed against his shield’s torturous fingers until he captured the king’s soft lips in a passionate, needy kiss. Noctis couldn’t control his laughter even after Gladio’s tongue invaded his mouth, his snickers sending pleasurable vibrations down his throat. A luscious moan escaped through the small gap between their tongues leaving Gladio with all the leeway he needed to subdue his lover’s tongue.

Their saliva swirled together and slipped down their stubbled chins as their tongues danced. His king’s hands threading their way through Gladio’s long brown hair as the shield lowered himself closer to Noctis. Gladio loved how the heat of their passion made them both hot and sweaty all over again. 

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Gladio moved down to Noctis’s breast and greedily sucked on his perky right nipple, earning another moan from his lover as he stroked his brown locks. He then switched to give attention to his left nipple, glancing up at his king, who smirked at him tenderly. Lifting his head with a slick pop coming off his king’s soft nipple, he saw how needily Noctis gazed at him. “Now?”

“I think you know the answer,” Noctis muttered in that husky tone that made Gladio growl in anticipation.

“Noct,” he cupped his lover’s face with both hands, pressing one last soft, sweet kiss to his swollen lips. “I love you.” He made sure to nudge his erection up against Noctis’s soaked opening, getting a high-pitched mewl out of him.

“I love you too, and I want you, Gladio… I need you. All of you… everything you’ve got, I want you to do so much more to me than you did last night,” he said, taking hold of Gladio’s hand and kissing his palm. “I wanna be lost in you… make me forget everything right now. The only thing I wanna know is you and me alone, here together. Shut out everything and everyone else…” He wrapped his arms around his lover’s neck and hugged him close, tears slipping from his eyes. “And if I fall asleep, let me sleep forever in your arms…”

Gladio gently lowered him back down and gazed into his tearful sapphires. “You and me, Noct, I promise. Let me take you away.”

Noctis gave him a tearful, honest smile before letting his eyes slip closed, coming to slide his hands down both of Gladio’s firm, sturdy biceps. “I’m yours.”

“I know,” the older man replied, kissing both of his king’s thighs before towering back over him and licking at his lips for another long, loving kiss. The king’s mouth was still firmly closed when Gladio forced his tongue inside, exploring every nook and crevice within his lover’s lips, claiming everything for himself. He then gently shifted his knees and hips in such a way that his bulging tip rested at Noctis’s entrance, eliciting a desperate whine from him that echoed off the walls of the bedroom.

Gladio was thankful that this was a pretty small room in which they could be as loud as they wanted when Noctis arched his back and threw his head to the side, letting out the most beautiful lustful mewl. Gladio slid himself in then, a smooth path to follow to the end of his lover’s squishy, wet, pink cavern as his walls stretched and contracted, taking all of the larger man’s girth and swallowing it.

“Gods!” Noctis winced and gripped at the pillows under his raven crown as his body took Gladio’s length all the way, just as it had done many times before those ten years ago. His womb had since grown accustomed to his lover’s heavy, massive cock and was always prepared for the most incredible, passionate thrusts that sent him over the edge.

At this point, Noctis was already panting heavily and looked completely exhausted. Despite this, Gladio resolved to continue as he let both of them get comfortable and settled before he started moving inside. This was what his king wanted and Gladio was not one to disappoint him, especially when it came to giving him that sexual and emotional gratification that he so desperately needed right now. The shield broke their kiss and watched with a smile as his lover’s body heaved up and down with shallow breaths, sweat beading down his scruffy face. “You okay, baby?”

Noctis rocked his hips slightly and let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah... you can move, but take it slow. I wanna enjoy every single second of you inside of me, Gladio… please. Keep me here for as long as you can.”

“I can do that and more,” Gladio reassured him, beginning with slow, even thrusts, leaning in to capture his swollen lips once more. He crawled further up and over him, looming over his Noctis’s entire body, pushing his legs open wider while his broad hands roamed over every inch of his king’s glistening torso.

“Ahhhhnnnn…” The pleasurable pressure already began filling Noctis’s sex as Gladio picked up momentum and speed. The king arched yet again, gripping at the sheets for some measure of assurance that he was still on earth as his ears were assaulted with that wet slick noise of flesh slapping against flesh. His opening was soaked, his fluid dripping down his thighs and onto the bed. It just felt so good to be full of warm liquid as Gladio’s hardened cock swam in Noctis’s sweet fluids between thrusts.

“Oh, Noct…” Gladio groaned, feeling the constant contracting and pulsing of Noctis’s soft walls crowding his arousal. “Noct, c’mere,” he purred, sliding his hands under Noctis’s shoulders and pulling him into his chest as he rolled his hips faster, his breath hitching with every thrust.

“Gladio!” The king yelped, wrapping his legs tightly around his lover’s hips, bucking and desperately nudging his head into his shoulder; his raven strands resting over Gladio’s fading eagle tattoo. “Oooohhhhh, Gladio!”

Holding Noctis close to his heart like this to where he could feel their hearts pounding in rhythm, gave him a warming sense of home. Noctis was his home. He thought he had forgotten what home felt like.

He slid in and out, in and out steadily, rocking Noctis in time with his rolling hips. The spot his cock kept hitting inside of his lover was turning Noctis into a writhing, moaning mess, howling as the waves of pleasure swept over him.

Able to hold his king firmly with one arm, Gladio reached down between their flushed, wet skin to wriggle his fingers around Noctis’s sensitive nub of nerves, swirling his hot juices.

“Gladio!!” He screamed and threw his head back, his raven bangs flowing off his face. Gladio immediately went for his neck, kissing, biting and licking at once; growling as he thrust further and faster into his lover’s womb. “Gladio, uuuuhhhhggggnnnn… Gladio, gods!!! Gladio, Gladio, please!!!”

Gladio smiled into his kisses, feeling Noctis’s whole body shiver as his walls clamped down, squeezing his heavy, dripping cock. “Noct, it’s almost time,” he grumbled breathlessly.

“I know,” the king whined loudly, his stomach clenched as his womb contracted and relaxed intermittently, the intense pressure rising in his core; he was so close to coming now.

Gladio’s roar sang with Noctis’s groan as they came together. Noctis arched higher than ever, screaming and drawing out Gladio’s name while his lover gave a few more quick thrusts, spilling the last of his seed into his king.

Their panting slowed and their heartbeats returned to soft thumping as they descended from solitary ecstasy. Gladio gently pulled himself out from Noctis’s softness and laid him back down on the bed, before taking his place close beside him. “Noct.”

Sighing contentedly and still a bit shaky from the aftermath of lovemaking, the king rolled over and laid his raven crown to rest on Gladio’s chest. The sound of his lover’s steadily beating heart comforted him in a way that nothing else in the world could ever do. “I love you, Gladio,” his murmur drifted through the silence of the darkened bedroom and nestled softly in Gladio’s ear.

Gladio pressed a loving kiss to his raven bangs, smoothing them away from his pale, aged face. “I love you more than my life, Noct. My beautiful king…” Gladio watched happily as Noctis slipped peacefully back into slumber, the morning light sweeping across his face, making him seem to glow.

The king’s dreams were abounding in the memories of that special night before.

His coronation. The party. The music. The drinks and food. The laughter from close friends. Prompto, Ignis and Gladio stood beside him as he raised a toast to peaceful years ahead under the new dawn.

It was a crazy night, but a fun one as everyone laughed and danced and sang, happily making casual conversations about normal, everyday life. Not war, or refugees, or if being out at night meant probable death, but peaceful things; especially life.

All of Lucis was rejoicing in the light and the promise of hope that followed it. The return of their king rekindled that fire of progress and determination as he had ordered the rebuilding to begin immediately in Insomnia.

Every hall in the Citadel was alive with people from all corners of the Crown City, but the throne room held the greatest joyful noise as the people held their own toast to their new king, and for a peaceful reign and good health to come.

Prompto’s album roll was overflowing with pictures of the occasion. Every “click” of his shutter meant another beautiful memory to be added to his photo album labeled, “Home.” He took shots of everything: from the tiniest crumb stuck on the ebony table cloths to the magnificent, black marble throne reserved only for the rightful king.

The blonde photographer made sure to get extra special pictures of the king and his shield on what was celebrated as both of their special day, as their love was once again reunited.

Ignis tried his hand at dancing around with various lovely ladies, loving the feeling of being whisked across the dance floor. Ten years of living in his own darkness hadn’t deterred him from enjoying every piece of life he once latched onto. 

He didn’t miss a beat, moving gracefully while entwined in the arms of a young lass. The king followed all of his advisor’s movements, relishing the joyful laughter that burst forth from the taller man. 

The king hadn’t heard Ignis laugh in a long time and it was the most beautiful sound his ears had captured that night.

After the party quieted down and everyone returned to their new homes, the king and his shield retired for the night quite early. But it wasn’t because they were tired, no. Gladio desperately needed time alone with his king, his lover.

Ten years was too long for them to be apart.

A wrinkled hand halted only an inch from knocking on the king’s bedroom door. It had heard the resulting labored breathing and pleasured groans from the couple’s lovemaking.

“It must be nice for the King of Lucis to sleep in and spend the rest of the day in his lover’s embrace.” The voice took an irritated tone.


	2. His Father's Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm really getting into the swing of this one now. I've just really got a thing for Older Noctis and the older bros right now.
> 
> So, let's hope this one is good... (crosses fingers) ^_^

Noctis stood outside the looming doors to the Conference Hall, dreading the expectations of those aging faces that his father once stood before. The Royal Counsel had called together a meeting for the new king to address both the survivors of Insomnia, and all the laws, rules, and civilities that proved quite the task for a reigning monarch.

The raven-haired king had never paid much attention to various royal affairs when he was younger, simply because he figured it was too soon to get wrapped up in all that political nonsense. Through the years however, Ignis had urged him to at least try to listen whenever he was invited to one of his father’s meetings.

The advisor had told the young prince that it was highly important for him to pay attention more to the way his father dealt with political issues and the handling of laws than anything else.

Noctis had never felt more unprepared than he felt now. He shivered at the thought of all those expectant eyes on him, watching him with disappointment if he did anything they disapproved of. But he was king now. He couldn’t back down from his duty to his kingdom.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushed open the heavy, ebony doors and entered into the drafty, marble hall where all of his councilmen awaited him. The intimidating black, marble table in the middle of the room was surrounded by these old men with blank expressions, all dressed in their finest suits. Every one of them stood from their seats and took a bow as the king stepped in.

“Your Majesty,” echoed from wrinkled lips one by one as Noctis approached them, regarding them with a solemn nod.

He recognized very few of them, guessing many must have perished in the attack on Insomnia. The need for new councilmen was imperative, requiring only the finest and most skilled of persons to help the king rule.

Appointing of new royal advisors and councilmen fell to Cor Leonis, Marshal of the Crownsguard. Noctis hadn’t admitted to it, but he had no idea the kinds of responsibilities that rested on the shoulders of such high-ranking officials. It was due to Ignis’s suggestion that Cor took this task under his belt for the new king.

Seeing Noctis as completely unsure of himself, Cor agreed without hesitation, promising the king he would indeed do his best.

It was an understatement to say that right now, Noctis felt incredibly inadequate as king.

Cor met him at the doors, bowing to him as he took his hand to kiss it. “Majesty, welcome. I trust you slept well?”

“Very well, m-marshal, thank you.” Why had he stuttered like that? He cursed himself, knowing this was not going to be a good first day as king for him. “Are we to begin now?”

“Of course, Your Majesty! Please, take your rightful place at the head of the table.” A wrinkled, balding man, who looked to be pushing eighty years old called to him.

Cor gave his arm to the king and led him over to his dark, leather chair. “Majesty,” he bowed once again as Noctis took his seat cautiously.

“Ah-” Noctis winced, holding himself on the arms of the chair. Everyone stared in his direction at the little gasp he made.

“Majesty, are you alright?”, the marshal asked unwarily.

Noctis nodded, hissing softly as lowered himself onto the leather cushion. “I-I’m fine, thank you, Cor.” ‘Gods, but the pain is worth it,’ Noctis smirked fondly as he remembered the passionate events of last night.

Another older bald man, in his sixties, raised a brow at the king’s odd behavior, snickering under his breath. “Are you ready to begin, my king?” His tone sounded rather unimpressed.

Noctis awkwardly smiled at them. “Yes, councilman. Shall we start then?”

Silence.

Noctis could feel sweat beading on his back in the unsettling quiet, glancing nervously at each of their boring glares. “I, um,” the echo of his own words bouncing off the towering walls in the room rang in his eardrums, making him tense.

Cor stood beside the king, waiting for another word until he saw Noctis slightly fidgeting in his seat. “Majesty,” he whispered, “what’s wrong?”

Noctis looked up into Cor’s understanding gaze like a child would its parent. “What comes next?”, he whispered back.

Cor chuckled softly before speaking into his king’s ear. “They’re waiting for you to start with a conversation regarding the state of the kingdom, as is the custom, Majesty.”

“But… what should I say?” This was probably one of the most embarrassing moments in his whole life as he noticed all of the men staring at him.

“Mention the rebuilding efforts, Majesty,” he suggested kindly. “Something hopeful.”

Noctis cleared his throat, straightening his posture before speaking. “Council, I have been informed that the reconstruction of Insomnia has been going well.”

One other councilman, around 40 with graying red hair, answered with a smile. “Very well, Your Majesty! Fortunately, most of the outer districts were spared the chaos and destruction, leaving us with more opportunity to build on sturdy remains.”

Noctis nodded, keeping a stern face. “I’m very pleased. What about homes, houses for our citizens? And businesses? People need jobs, work,” the king inquired, feeling proud of himself for continuing on in this way, keeping the conversation going. “Any news so far on how much of the city has been salvaged?”

“Majesty, the residential properties at the border survived unscathed,” a balding, bulkier man in his 50’s informed his king with a low, booming voice. “As for the inner portions, some areas were completely obliterated by imperial troopers. My divisions have uncovered vast amounts of rotting corpses, possibly perishing from crumbling debris.”

“However,” the red-headed man interrupted. “A few days ago, we discovered many surviving citizens and their families living amongst the rubble, scraping up whatever food and supplies they could.”

Noctis thumbed his chin stubble in thought. “Have measures been taken to ensure their health and safety since then?”

“Yes, Majesty. We have the rest of our surviving Crownsguard soldiers caring for them as we speak.”

Noctis smiled. “Good. It’s all very good. I am… happy to hear this news.”

“If I may, Majesty,” piped up the sixty-year-old bald man with a subtle, mocking tone. “Has the census data for the rest of the city been completed?”

Noctis glanced dumbfoundedly at the man. “The... census? I-I'm sure we have-”

“After all, we cannot be sure all the citizens are accounted for. Can you confirm this, my king?”

“Well, that is s-something we-”

“Ah ah! Not ‘we’, Your Majesty. That is a task you must take charge of,” he snickered, smirking at Noctis. “Well? Have you?”

Noctis stared, unable to answer. Census? Why hadn’t he thought that far? What other important things was he missing? He fumbled with his hands in his lap, looking down as his heart pounded in his chest. “I-I haven’t, um, the census is… I assure you i-it will-”

“Pardon me, my king. I can’t hear you,” the old man said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “May I ask for you to keep eye contact with me?”

Noctis looked up immediately, intimidation shone in the old man’s wrinkled, pale green eyes. “Um, o-of course. T-the c-census… I, uh, will keep on it until I have e-everyone accounted f-for,” he stated nervously, watching each of their glum faces. He guessed this man was one of his father’s old councilmen, but he couldn’t place him.

He didn’t look familiar at all.

The older man nodded. “Yes, Majesty, at your discretion. And civil regulations?”

Noctis tucked a strand of his raven hair behind his ear as he glanced around the table. His sapphires coming to land back on the old man with those piercing green eyes. “C-civil… regulations? I don’t-”

“No, you don’t, Majesty. How will we keep survivors safe from others? Say we had a thief or a killer, or perhaps a rapist amongst potential surviving families? Well, how would we keep them safe?” His pressing questions had Noctis fidgeting under his gaze. He smirked rudely as he continued. “My king, we have no written laws. No one will take laws seriously if not proven on parchment! Can you tell me?”

Noctis abruptly stood up from his chair, a bead of sweat rolling down his face. “I’m sorry, I… don’t feel well. May we continue this meeting another time?”

All eyes around the table were on the king, some whispering to each other. But the old, bald man hadn’t taken his eyes off of him, his spookish grin plastered in his wrinkles.

Cor placed a hand on Noctis’s shoulder and nodded back when the looming doors on the other side of room opened as Ignis stepped inside.

“Um,” Noctis began, watching every step Ignis took toward the conference table. “I’ll return in a few moments. I must speak with my advisor.” He brushed Cor’s hand off and strode as fast as he dared over to Ignis.

“Ignis?”

The blind advisor smiled slightly, expecting to come to Noctis at the table, not have him greet him here. “Majesty, how are you?”

Noctis groaned softly. “Ignis, please, I have to talk to you,” he mumbled, grasping Ignis’s arm.

“About what, Noct? You are in the middle of a meeting,” he nodded at the councilmen around the table.

“Well, it’s about the meeting. I’m being asked questions I have no clue how to answer.” His breaths quickened with every word. “Was the census completed…?”

The advisor patted Noctis’s shoulder, chuckling tenderly. “Noct, you must calm down. They inquired about the census data?”

Noctis nodded, glancing back reluctantly. “I… don’t know anything.” His voice quivered.

“Not to worry, Majesty. I have just the thing,” Ignis assured, coming behind him to knead the king’s tense shoulders. “Come, my king, I’ll handle everything.”

The smile on his advisor’s lips made him smile. It was amazing how calm Ignis stayed in these kinds of situations, and how just his warm smile could put Noctis at ease.

Ignis headed for the grand table as he motioned with a gloved finger for the king to follow him. Noctis obeyed, shuffling his heels as he walked beside him.

“Good afternoon, marshal, gentlemen,” the advisor greeted the assembly.

“Lord Scientia,” Cor acknowledged him with a bow. The rest of the councilmen nodded at his presence, some of them voicing their greeting, while some only glanced at him.

Ignis then carefully fixed his visor and pulled out some papers from inside his jacket, shuffling them together on the table in front of Noctis. “Council, as the king has only just been appointed as ruler, he has not had a proper chance to gather information or participate in matters concerning Insomnian law and regulations. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of preparing all aspects of government authority strictly, so that the king may be well informed to take the proper action in a timely fashion.”

Noctis had no words as he studied Ignis’s prim and proper form speaking with authoritative confidence. He wished he had the same courage in front of these important men, being their king. Expected to deliver an exceptional reigning hand, Noctis doubted he would ever have that same kind of firm, kingly authority that garnered and commanded the attention of all around him.

The way both his father and Ignis presented such a gift.

Noctis dreadfully watched as that nagging, bald old man opened his mouth again. “That is all well and good, Scientia, but shouldn’t the king be responsible for his own actions? His Majesty, King Regis never had anyone to hold his hand.”

The king sat up and glared at the man with a dark hue in his sapphires.

“Why should his son be any different?” He seemed to spit some form of malice through his words.

All eyes were on the man now, some glaring, some staring in disbelief at how callously he had mentioned the late King Regis. What right did he have to criticize the new king on how quickly he was thrust onto the throne basically overnight?

“My father,” Noctis began, his face blank and still, “ruled how he saw fit, whether or not he had help from people like you, sir. But I shall rule as I was born to rule: by my own hand, not by my father’s. The people come first, not me.”

The old man huffed through a cough, rolling his half-lidded eyes. “But of course, Majesty.”

Ignis cleared his throat, rubbing Noctis’s back gently. “Gentlemen, our king has voiced his intentions. I expect he will do no less than what he promises.” He took a paper out from the stack on the table and handed it to the king. “Now, I indeed have the statistics of a census taken from yesterday, before the coronation. However, we cannot rely on its accuracy as we have not concluded the exact number of citizens from every corner of Insomnia.” His voice held certainty as he spoke without hesitation on Noctis’s behalf. “There is much we have yet to recover beneath all the rubble,” he finished with a heavy, sorrowful sigh.

Somewhat satisfied by the advisor’s long winded explanations, the old man kept quiet with a scowl that could curdle milk.

 

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》

 

A few hours had passed and it was beginning to darken as evening fell over the city. The meeting was over and all the councilmen bowed as they kissed their king’s hand, departing one after the other. Ignis and the marshal stood on either side of their king by the doors, waiting for the room to be empty.

Noctis wished them a good evening and restful sleep. But the last person to leave was that same bald old man with those spooky green eyes, whose chapped lips lingered on the king’s hand longer than anyone else’s.

“I wish you a peaceful evening, my king. I pray you sleep well tonight,” he cackled, slowly lifting his grinning face to bore his gaze into Noctis’s deep blue eyes. “A very good first meeting it was! Although, did I tire you with all my questions?”

Noctis hummed a chuckle. “Ah, I believe my exhaustion is only due to the lack of noise in the halls at night.” He swallowed the nerves that would have rather reprimanded the man for his overzealous interrogation.

The old man cackled louder, his squawking echoed through the darkened halls. “Yes, yes, I’m sure your lover is quite capable of satisfying those needs for you!”

Noctis blushed, brushing his bangs behind his ear. “I, uh…”

“Only joking, Majesty. Only joking,” he teased, cackling off into the hall.

Cor took his leave as well, wishing both the king and his advisor a good night. “You stood firmly today, Majesty. I’m proud of you,” he bowed to the king. “I’m looking forward to seeing the peace you’ll bring to Lucis after a decade…”

Noctis smiled warmly. “Cor… thank you. For everything.”

The marshal waved him back, striding away down the hall.

Ignis draped his arm over the king’s shoulders. “A rather strange way to proceed with your first official council meeting, hm?”

“Felt like I was being attacked,” Noctis said bluntly. “Guess I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Yes, but you’re not alone, Noct. We’re all here for you.”

He patted Ignis’s hand over his shoulder. “I thought kings were supposed to be responsible for their own actions.”

“Only when they’re on their own and incapable of putting others in danger,” Ignis reasoned playfully. “Like when our king casts a spell for instance?”

The king nudged him in the side. “You know it’s never on purpose,” he laughed.

Ignis chuckled deeply, walking out of the room with Noctis at his side. “What say we head on down to the dining hall? I’m quite famished.”

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed, “I wanna see Prompto and Gladio. They’ll be like a breath of fresh air after spending hours with those old goats.”

“Noct, mind what you say about your royal councilmen,” the advisor chided softly. “They are not all bad.”

“I know, I know,” he relented, sighing. “But they smelled like it.”

“Oh, Noct,” Ignis snickered. “You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

Noctis smiled at him. And even though Ignis couldn’t see it, he could sense the happy, playful grin playing on his king’s lips.

“So, where was Gladio today? I thought he would have been at the meeting. He is rather important, being lover to the king, Noct,” Ignis pried.

Noctis coughed, heat rising to his cheeks. “Uh, he had to… stay in bed today…” He rubbed his neck nervously. “He wasn’t feeling well.”

“That doesn’t sound good. What symptoms does he exhibit?”

Oh, of course Ignis had to pry this out of him. Though the advisor often preferred to keep to himself and stay out of gossip and personal affairs, he seemed to have a bit of a wicked streak in him; sneaking about in hopes of hearing a juicy story or two.

Noctis tried to think of some symptom that comes with getting sick OTHER than a sore throat. He winced at the thought of telling Ignis. Why hadn’t he just told him Gladio was out training? Or… something else totally unrelated?

“Uh, he, uh, has a… s-sore throat,” he managed in a bit of a squeaky voice.

“A sore throat? Is it serious?”

“No, I think it’s just a m-morning fluke…”

Ignis pondered for a moment, the king studying his expressions. “A morning fluke, you say? Perhaps he just had too much of a good thing last night, hmm?” He emphasized the word “thing”.

Noctis lightly hit his arm, his blush showing through his beard stubble. “Ignis, you’re a devil sometimes, you know that?”

“So you had a good time then?” That wicked grin wasn’t a good look for Ignis, or so the king thought.

Noctis chuckled awkwardly. “Shut it, Ignis.”

 

》》》》》》》》》》》

 

“‘His Majesty’ has no clue what it means to be king, sir.” A younger voice spat, sounding offended.

A grainy cackle came from the shadows of a large, abandoned warehouse by the sea. “He is not king… he will never BE king. The gods have made the biggest mistake in all of their pathetic existence. It was supposed to end with HIM!”

Glass shattered in a corner of the drafty, splintered building. “What do you want us to do, sir?” Yet another voice spoke through the darkness, this one sounding low and intimidating.

“Nothing yet, boys. Nothing yet.” His wrinkled, sunken, pale features illuminated by the glow of the moon. The tip of a knife gleaned the moonlight on the wall of the wooden warehouse. “We must wait. Wait for the perfect moment in solitude… then we pounce, as wolves to a helpless, little fawn…”

He spit on the musty, damp wood floor, throwing the knife with great force at the wall. It soared, cutting the very air before it struck the wooden wall, splintering off some planks. “Send for the men! Tell them it’s almost time…”

The footsteps of the other two fled with haste as soon as the words flew out of the man’s dry, cracked mouth.

He cackled once more under his breath, cutting his finger on a sharp edge of wood. He pinched it hard so the blood came pouring out, dark red and sticky.

“He will beg me for mercy… plead with me to grant him death…” He licked the blood off of his finger greedily, red staining his yellowed teeth.

“I’ll bring him to his knees…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too sure what kinds of things they discuss in the royal conference room, but I tried my best. Hope it sounds pretty good!
> 
> Thoughts? Like it? Can't wait for more? Let me know in a comment! I really wanna continue if it seems good and interesting.


	3. Twilight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee... long. I'm glad it's turning out pretty well though. How are you liking this story so far?
> 
> So, let us begin the torment...T_T

“Noct!” Prompto called from down the hall, dressed in his finest Crownsguard uniform. “It’s about to start, c’mon! They’re already playing the music!” His goatee twitched when he smiled.

The king peeked his head out of his bedroom door for just a second. “Hang on! I’m… coming,” he trailed off, fidgeting with the collar of his oversized cape.

Gladio glanced back, waiting for Noctis to reappear, only to find he was still waiting for his king. “You go ahead, guys. I’ll see what’s keeping him,” he waved at Ignis and Prompto.

“Please hurry, Gladio, they’re waiting for you two,” the advisor reminded him. The assembly hall grew louder, echoing laughter and melodic violins as people began dancing.

“And no funny business!”

Gladio smirked, pointing at the blonde. “Get out there, blondie!”

Prompto playfully pretended to salute him as he trotted after Ignis. “Aye aye, captain!”

Gladio quietly tiptoed to their enormous bedroom doors and gently pushed them open, watching as Noctis checked himself in the mirror. He smiled at the indecisive sounds his king was making, examining his outfit from all angles.

The king sighed at his reflection, clearly not satisfied with his current attire. His body felt strange slipping into his kingly raiment that he had worn on the day he was to be sacrificed. It brought to mind both good and bad memories. The night he made peace within himself, and said goodbye to his brothers.

It was hard enough uttering his last words to Ignis and Prompto, but Gladio… it tore him apart. He tried to hold back the tears, tried to hold back the desperate cries that hung in his throat, tried to face it all with a heart of courage… but nothing could have prepared him for what he did face that night. What was love, if you couldn’t be there to feel it? If you couldn’t see it? If you couldn’t hold it close without the fear of letting it go?

It hurt. It hurt so bad, but there was nothing he could do. In that moment, that moment in that lost, dark world, entwined in the warmth of his shield’s safe embrace, he confessed. He confessed to him that he didn’t know if he could go on like this, knowing it was to be the last time their hearts would truly sing together as one.

Noctis shut his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to fluff the collar of his silken shirt in some kind of presentable way, but ultimately failed as it flopped back down. “You’re quite a sight…”

“I’ll say.”

Noctis whipped around toward that deep, sultry tone he had heard so many glorious times under the sheets. The way he turned on his heels made his dark, cascading cape swish over his back. “Gladio?”

Gladio cat-called, strutting over toward his lover. “You look amazing.”

“Do not,” the king protested, unbuttoning his shirt a little farther. “I look like I don’t know how to dress myself. I also don’t get,” he struggled with his oversized cape, “how to fix this. On. My. Shoulders!” With a huff, he threw it on the bed. “Gods, I look horrible,” he finished, threading his hands through his raven locks.

Laughing at his king’s quirky antics, the shield came up and placed his palms on his shoulders. “You never look horrible, Majesty.” He applied light pressure on the king’s neck, feeling many knots. “Ooh, you’re so tense.”

“Just nervous..”

“About?”

Noctis hummed, letting himself get swept away as Gladio tenderly kneaded his tight muscles.

“Feel good?”

“Mm-hmmm…”

His shield massaged the tight muscles around his neck, kneading his crown with gentle fingers as he moved in closer behind him. “So, what are you nervous about, babe? Tonight? All those people?”

Noctis nodded, letting out an awkward chuckle. “Everything. You know how it is… they’ll be watching every single thing I do. Judging, whispering, maybe even insulting us…”

“Who cares, Noct?” He stepped back and turned the king around to face him. “If you're happy, we’re happy. People will be people, butting in where they don’t belong. You just need to focus on us, alright?”

Noctis played with a button on his shirt, watching as Gladio moved over to the bed and picked up the king’s long, flowing cape. “I like focusing on just us,” the younger man smirked.

“Good,” Gladio commented, holding the cape up to his king. “Now, lemme put this on you, alright?”

Noctis turned back around, coming face to face with his reflection again. He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Think I should shave?”

Gladio caught a whiff of the king’s musky cologne and immediately felt his limp member stick up, crowding in close to his lover’s backside to rub his erection up against his thighs. Groaning, he dropped the cape, wrapping his arms around Noctis’s chest and squeezing his shoulders.

Noctis faltered with a shallow gasp as he grabbed at Gladio’s hands. “Gladio… you know we don’t have time for this,” he reminded him, trying to ignore the heat rising in his core while his fluids began pooling between his legs. “Gladio?”

“Mmm… no, don’t shave,” he mumbled, burying his nose in Noctis’s raven locks. “I like your little stubble… makes you look all rugged and sexy… like I need to conquer you and make love to you all damn night.” He pulled Noctis by the hand, dragging him over to the bed; his arousal poking at the front of his pants to be released.

Noctis laughed, letting himself be lead to their enormous, plush king size bed. “You love making us late, don’t you?”

Gladio stopped with the back of his knees at the edge of the bed, bringing his lover flush against his chest. “Noct,” he breathed huskily into his neck, licking at his stubbled chin. “Just a quickie… c’mon, we won’t be late, I promise…”

Noctis moaned behind his lips, hugging Gladio’s neck to bring him closer. “You were supposed to help me get dressed, love…”

“I’ll help you get dressed… after I undress you,” he breathed, pecking his king’s lips and pulling back to look into those luscious, deep blue eyes.

“Oh, you asked for it.” He pushed Gladio back to flop on the bed, getting a deep gasp from him as the king crawled over on top of his muscular frame. “You said “a quickie”, so let's make it quick. Everybody's waiting for us,” he panted as he leaned in to snatch Gladio’s lips, rocking his hips back and forth; creating friction as he felt his lover’s hardened member probe at his opening.

“Noct,” he muttered through his parted lips. “Let me… do you, baby.” He brought his hands up to grasp Noctis’s arms, but received a slap from his king as he rocked harder and faster against his fleeing bulge, earning a drawn out grunt from his lover.

“I’m faster,” Noctis argued, palming Gladio through his pants. “Just lie still.” He sucked on Gladio’s hot mouth as a hungry fawn would suckle for milk.

Gladio growled this time as he slapped his lover’s ass hard, eliciting a low yelp from the king, who broke the kiss to throw his head back. “Let me do you, Noctis. Get off and lie on the bed,” he commanded, using all of his upper strength to flip his lover onto the bed, taking his routine place above him. “C’mere…”

As he leaned over the king’s torso to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, he was met with a rough slap to his face. He flinched back, watching Noctis’s expression change from passionate to disappointed. “Why won’t you let me make you feel good this time?”, he pouted, pinching Gladio’s hands on either side of his body.

Gladio chuckled, unbuttoning Noctis’s shirt very slowly. With every button that popped open, he pressed a kiss to his lover’s firm breast, making his way down to his pants. “Because you know where my place is. I belong on top of you, shielding you. Protecting you… shadowing you from the harsh gaze of the world’s piercing eyes.”

“Gladio,” Noctis muttered. “I wanna do you this time, please?”

“No,” Gladio refused simply. “You're my king, Noct. I live to serve you and you're all mine. You belong to me. Now shush and hold on to me…” He kissed Noctis with so much fervor then, that the king kept quiet as Gladio claimed him once again this evening.

It wasn’t long before Gladio had unbuttoned Noctis’s shirt all the way down to the waist of his pants, revealing his pale, lightly toned torso. “Noct, I never get tired of seein’ you like this: all vulnerable in front of me… godsdammit, baby, you’re even more beautiful than you were ten years ago…” He leaned down to nibble and suck on both of Noctis’s pink, perky nipples before he trailed his wet lips to sloppily kiss at his belly; his hardened member throbbed in his pants.

“Well,” Noctis breathed, threading his fingers through Gladio’s brown locks and gently tugging. “For someone who wanted just a quick session before the ball… uhhhnnn… you’re sure taking your sweet time.” He removed one hand and unzipped Gladio’s trousers, feeling his pulsating, impatient member against his palm. “Shit, Gladio… you really want this, don’t you?”

“More than anything, Noct,” he said, yanking his lover’s hand away from his boxers. “But I wanna do something different this time.”

Noctis glanced at the impressive grandfather clock in the corner of the room. “Love, we were supposed to be out there ten minutes ago. We don’t have time for-”

“Forget time, Noct. I want you… they can wait,” he grumbled, helping Noctis up from the bed. “You wanna take the rest off? Or allow me to do the honors? I can wait.”

Noctis smirked, glancing down at his lover’s hard erection stretching the fabric of his boxers. “I don’t think you can.”

Gladio growled, undoing his tie in a second. His coat flew off next, then his undershirt until his chiseled torso was the only thing left on top.

Noctis’s breath hitched with every piece of clothing that flew off as he caught a whiff of Gladio’s musky, sweaty scent every time. The king slowly undid his own pants and boxers, pulling them down at once and letting them drop off the end of the bed. He sat up on his knees and backed up into Gladio’s waist, gasping at his engorged member resting at his cheeks. “Ah! Gladio-,” he sharply inhaled.

“Oh baby… h-hang on… gotta get my pants off,” he purred into the king’s ear, slipping his formal pants and boxers down and kicking them off the bed. He hugged Noctis to his beating chest, kneading and squeezing his abs as he kissed breathlessly along his nape. He ran his broad hands down his lover’s sides, rubbing little circles over his hips, eliciting a guttural moan from his king’s open mouth.

“Oohhh, Gladio, uhhnnn…” Noctis lolled his head back over Gladio’s tattooed shoulder, rocking on his knees as Gladio’s thumping length leaked some fluid pushed up against the king’s opening; it tickled his quivering thighs as it slipped down his leg. “Uuuuhhhhhnnnn,” he whined, “please, Gladio… don’t wait, come.”

Gladio gently pushed down on the king’s back, having him lean over his chest so he could get a better position of his opening; softly kissing and licking at his lover’s tailbone. “Alright, baby, alright… relax,” he assured him, mumbling through the soft skin of the small of Noctis's back. “I’ve got you.”

Noctis braced himself by gripping at the edge of the bed and digging his knees into the plush comforter as Gladio’s greedy member seemed to wriggle itself inside the king’s warm, soft walls. “Aooohhh, Gladio!” Noctis struggled to hold himself steady as his lover’s girth forced its way in, slithering further and further with each of Gladio’s smooth thrusts.

“Easy, baby, easy… I’m in, it’s alright.” The shield then leaned tenderly over Noctis’s back, carefully settling his weight on his lover.

Noctis shifted his knees under his shield’s heaviness, groaning pleasurably at the comfort that came from his lover’s engorged member within, and his hot, firm muscles resting against his spine. “Gladio…” The king’s voice came out shaky and uneasy as he reached both hands back for a reassuring touch from his lover. “Give me your hands, love… please.”

Gladio smiled and entwined his long fingers with Noctis’s thinner ones, beginning his steady thrusts with every ounce of deep passion and loving care in his 6’6 body. He lowered himself close to Noctis’s ear, whispering loving words to him. “Good, baby… you’re beautiful… you're so gorgeous… mmm, Noct, I love you…”

Noctis shivered and shook as Gladio’s hot, lust-heavy breath purred against his ear while his greedy length pushed and pulled inside of him at a rapid but gentle pace. He squeezed Gladio’s hands with desperate force, trying to hold his release in for as long as he could. He didn’t want this to ever end. 

His mind spun, his spine ached, his muscles twitched, his breaths hitching and shallow; but the rapid tightening and gentle contracting of his soft walls around Gladio’s heavy, slick member pushed him farther than he was prepared for. As the pressure overwhelmed and washed over his entire body, he arched up against Gladio’s firm cascade of muscles and groaned long and loud. “Uuuuuuuhhhhhnnnnngggggg, Gladio!!”

“Oh, Noct,” the older man growled, his release coming right after. “Noct, I love you…!” His sticky seed spilled out along Noctis’s soft, contracting walls, swallowing it all down deep into his warm, cozy womb. The larger man roared his relief, relishing the certain, comforting fact that he had claimed his king for himself. Just like he had done many times before.

Gladio lay breathless and sweaty over his exhausted lover, who gratefully sighed at being filled by his selfish and dominating milky semen. The king brought Gladio’s broad hands to rest in his beneath his breast as he fell over onto his side. “I love you too, Gladio,” he murmured, reaching a hand over his lover’s neck as the older man pressed light kisses to his nape; his lover’s beard sending tickling sensations down his spine. “That was way worth it for ten more minutes…”

“Mm-hm, baby… I told you we’d have time.” He took his sweet time to carefully slide himself out from his lover as he wrapped his arms protectively around his belly, burying his nose in his silky raven strands. “We better get ready… but I’ll tell ya, I’d rather stay here and sleep.”

“Me too, love, but we promised we’d be out there,” he said sleepily, slowly untangling himself from Gladio’s warm, broad arms when his lover pulled him back in again. “Gladio, really,” Noctis groaned, “don’t keep your king from his people.”

Gladio hummed in pleasure, running his hands up and down his lover’s body again. “You’re my king before you’ve ever been theirs, so I believe I come first,” he mumbled, sucking at Noctis’s soft shoulder as he kneaded his ample ass.

“Oh, Gladio…” He felt his body crying out to be fondled again as Gladio worked his smooth caresses, bringing his broad, hard-toned thigh over his lover’s legs. But his squishy, fluid-filled cavity was no longer vacant, no matter how many times they made love. “Love, I’m... gonna have a baby.”

Gladio’s hands paused, his head swirling in a million different directions. He had no words, but tried to say something. “What... did you say? Did you say-”

“Yeah,” the king whispered, chuckling. “You’re not the easiest man to stop once you get going.”

Gladio held himself up to look directly into Noctis’s deep blue eyes. There was no lie in those beautiful sapphires, no jokes. “Serious?”

“Serious. Found out a few days ago when I felt sick signing papers.”

“How far along…?”

“Doctor said a month and a half.”

“Godsdamn, Noct,” Gladio sighed, turning his lover over on his back so he could view every inch of what was soon to be a swollen belly filled with his growing seed. He traced the outline of Noctis’s softly forming curves and fleshy undertones with both hands, getting his king to hum in pleasure. “After ten long years… I’m gonna be a father,” he dropped to a whisper, only ghosting the words on his lips as if he almost couldn’t believe it was all true.

Noctis couldn’t help the tearful smile that tugged his mouth upwards, swallowing the lump in his throat. “No more condoms for a while,” he joked, placing his palms on his shield’s taut abs, feeling the heavy sobs that made his whole body shudder.

“Oh, Noct…” He pressed his quivering lips to his lover’s, his tears rolling down over Noctis’s stubbled cheeks. He held him close to his chest licking his king’s bottom lip as he crawled back over him needily. “Noct… I love you, baby..”

Noctis snaked his arms around his shield’s neck, embracing the tender, loving kiss. “Gladio… thank you for being mine…”

 

》》》》》》》》》》

 

It seemed like no matter how many papers he neatly folded on the other side of the desk, his current pile of unsigned papers grew taller as the evening fell into the deep of night. It had been too many hours since he began this little chore and his constant yawning only made it worse.

Gladio lounged against the back of the sofa in the king’s study as he glanced up from his novel, hoping his lover was finally finished with his royal task. “Noct? You done now? You’ve been at it for hours.”

The only sound he heard from Noctis was a sleepy sigh as he approached his slumbering king. His arms stretched over the edge of the desk with his head resting on his left, while his right hand still held the fountain pen. He looked so peaceful. His soft, raven bangs draping the aged frame of his face, the gentle, sweet moans that left his slightly parted lips as he slept, and most of all, the precious, tiny, four month swell of his middle that rose and fell with each restful breath.

Gladio just couldn’t bring himself to wake him yet. They both had been swamped with work ever since reclaiming their home. The rebuilding of Insomnia was a huge undertaking, and with Noctis being crowned king and performing his rightful albeit innumerable duties, it was exhausting work. Gladio himself was equally as tired as he saw to preparations for scouting and surveying the damage done to the city, and searching out the remaining survivors.

He and Noctis often worked together, seeing as they were so close and formally lovers, not to mention Gladio’s role as shield to the king. Gladio also took to settling affairs regarding civil law and regulations; maintaining police work and criminal reprimand as well as helping to train new Crownsguard recruits. Every day worked them to the bone, and it seemed like not even sleep could remedy their exhaustion.

It was agony they had to endure for the time being, but they were proud to do so. They were home, what more could they ask for?

Gladio smiled, sleep tugging on his own eyes as he quietly placed his book on the end table beside the sofa. He slowly hauled his bulk up and over to his slumbering king, kneeling down to hold his baby bump with careful, calloused hands. He smoothed tiny circles over and over, earning a sleepy groan from his lover.

“Noct, wake up,” he whispered softly, patting the king’s middle. “C’mon, baby, let’s go to bed. I’m dead tired and you need your rest too.”

Blearily opening his blue, cloudy eyes, Noctis pushed Gladio’s hands away, repositioning himself to write on the form in front of him. “Hm-mm, I have to get this done. Need it for tomorrow…” His eyes slipped closed again as his head dipped forward.

“Baby, you’re too tired. You’ve gotta sleep. A tired king can’t do anything for anybody,” he chuckled, tucking a strand of raven hair behind his lover’s ear.

“I’ll be in soon,” Noctis mumbled, glancing down at him. “Please, Gladio, let me finish this.”

Gladio watched the dutiful pleading in his king’s beautiful, sleepy sapphires as he pressed a kiss to his swelling middle. He took Noctis’s left hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze; their silver engagement bands gleaming by the light of the study lamp. “You sure? You look so tired.”

It was true, Noctis did look awful. Dark circles underlined his eyes, his shoulders slumped over in his chair, he yawned and shuffled around the Citadel all day… his pregnancy only added to his stress and exhaustion. He needed sleep. “Yes. I’m sure,” he yawned, signing the paper and placing on the finished stack of forms. “Now, go to bed.”

Gladio brought his king’s hand down and kissed it. “Alright, but not too long, I’ll get cold,” he joked, leaning over to speak to Noctis’s bump. “Night, little one, I love you.” He kissed his belly through his form-fitting sweater before standing up to leave.

Noctis smirked, leaning back in the chair as Gladio gently tilted his stubbled chin up to kiss his lips. ‘I love you,’ he mouthed as Gladio captured his lips passionately.

Slowly pulling away, he cupped the king’s cheek gazing lovingly into his eyes. “I love you too, baby. Now hurry up with those papers, huh?” He slid his hand across the king’s face, earning a soft moan.

“Yeah… I will.”

Gladio turned back around with a wink as he left for the door. “You’re the best thing that ever walked into my life, you know that?”

Noctis hummed. “I knew that,” he teased, resting his chin in his hand over the back of the chair. “You’re one lucky guy.”

The older man smiled, the aged wrinkles surrounding his features made it seem like his amber eyes smiled as well. “Oh yeah, be sure to tell Iggy not to wake us up so early in the morning this time. We didn’t get to snuggle today.”

“And boy did I miss it…” Noctis laughed, “I’ll tell him, don’t worry.”

Gladio winked once more and then quietly shut the door.

 

》》》》》》》》》》

 

Regardless of how much work the king truly had in front of him, Noctis once again fell asleep to the silence in the cozy room. In all honesty, he believed he slept better when there was something he had to do rather than nothing at all. Who would argue with him about closing his eyes for just a few restful moments?

The night remained quiet while the waning moon shone in the window of the study, illuminating Noctis’s scruffy, weary face. He shifted a little, turning his toes in as he sighed heavily, settling his head within the crook of his crossed arms.

A few hours into the night and the door creaked open, revealing a shadowed, limping figure enter the room. It hobbled over to where the king snored softly as he made little hums with each exhale. A crooked grin lit up amongst the shadows, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to touch him…

Noctis let out a shallow gasp and jolted out of his slumber when the calloused, wrinkled palm ghosted his shoulder. “Gladio?!” His yelp bounced off the close walls, making the figure wince. The king whipped around to face the owner of the hand. “Oh-... I, um…”

The figure cackled breathily, patting Noctis back down into his chair. “That was terribly rude of me, Majesty. I apologize for waking you, you must be exhausted!” His creaky voice matched his creepy demeanor, slurring his words very slightly.

“No, it’s… fine, I should’ve been in bed hours ago,” he giggled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Not at all, Majesty. You push yourself so hard every day, that it’s a small wonder you fall asleep at the drop of a hat.”

Noctis smirked, yawning. “Was there anything you needed from me?”

The man’s long, gray brows twitched as he bent at the waist to touch the king’s tiny swell. “And not only do you shoulder the burden of monarchy, this little one must place a heavy strain on you as well. You do carry the heir to the throne after all, Majesty.”

“Hm,” Noctis hummed, carefully watching every move this man made on his belly. “I try not to think about it too much, but I guess I do. I just wish this baby was going to have a better “mother”.”

The man gasped, catching Noctis’s attention immediately. “Surely you don’t mean that, Majesty! You are a-” he paused, his mouth hung open as he tried to form the words, “-fine king! A child such as the Lucian heir should be proud to have you as its mother. Why, you seem to carry yourself with the same passion, poise and air of magnificence as your father did before you.”

“Thank you, I… appreciate that,” the king said with hesitancy, tenderly rubbing over his middle. “Can I do anything for you?”

The man clicked his tongue. “Oh no, Majesty, I need nothing. Your advisor, Scientia, had asked me to check on you to make sure you were sleeping soundly,” he looked Noctis up and down, grinning. “Which, indeed you were, only in the wrong place.”

“Just lost track of time.” The king stretched his arms, grunting half of the sleepiness out of his system. “I really should finish this though.”

The man hummed, obviously amused by Noctis’s silly late-night diligence. “Just like your father…”

Noctis glanced at him with a confounded expression. “What?”

“You are the very image of your father reborn, Majesty. Even he wouldn’t have put down his work for sleep.” He leaned in closer behind Noctis’s chair to where the king could feel his bony fingers at his back. “Diligence runs in Lucian royal blood it seems.” His compliment took a bit of a snotty air as his spit flew into Noctis’s hair.

“I accept your kind words, but,” he shifted uncomfortably under the man’s gaze, boring into the back of his head as he felt his bony fingernails ever so slightly scrape his neck. “I’m trying to do things a little differently than my father.”

“But, Majesty, why? Your father was a great man with grand visions of a brighter future! He ruled justly and righteously with great concern for his people! He-” he stopped abruptly, making his way over to the exquisite paintings on the wall. “...well, I digress.”

Noctis drowsily stood up from his chair and bent his waist to stretch his back out. “I understand. Growing up, I… watched all the ways my dad ruled fairly and how he acted so well on sound judgement, but… I want to rule in my own way.” His blue eyes flickered an intensity he hadn’t intended, but for the awful recollection of this man’s rude behavior during his first official royal meeting. “I will serve my people as if they held my life in their hands,” Noctis finished with a supreme air of dignity.

The shadows in the room offered the man the opportune moment for his crooked smile to reappear at the king’s last words. “Perhaps you should retire now, my king. All of this serious talk has tired you out I’m sure,” he said sympathetically.

“I… you’re right… I should,” he yawned, heading for the door as he turned back to glance at the man. “Um, good evening.”

“Yes… a very good evening to you, my king,” a slight cackle peeping from his lips.

Noctis halted then as two more figures, much larger than himself appeared in front of the door. They held blades and stood at the ready, their glowing eyes glaring at the king. They raised their swords at him; their steps heavy and in the very slightest, hesitant.

His breath hitched, backing away slowly as he glanced around at the old man. The look in his sapphires calling for help. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a squeaky gasp.

The old man raised a brow at the king, his grin still etched on his cracked lips. “What’s wrong, Majesty?”

“Who are they? Stop them, I…” He dropped to a murmur.

“I’m sorry, Majesty, I couldn’t hear you.”

His heart pounded as he stepped back against the wall, catching the gleam of the lamp light shining off their blades. “Please- do something, I-” He turned to run in the opposite direction when he slammed into a firm, broad, muscular frame; huge hands coming to grip his wrists.

Noctis lifted his head in terror as he met gold, viciously grinning eyes, the scar running down his mouth slanted with his smile. “Howdy,” his thick, drawled accent made the king shiver as he pulled against the large man’s vicegrip.

He whipped Noctis around in his arms, his enormous biceps keeping his arms close to his body as he squeezed him, making his breath come out in heaves. Both of the other men sheathed their swords and walked over to the king, carving wicked smiles.

Sapphire eyes pleaded with the old man this time, squirming against his captor’s strong embrace. “Dammit! Do something!”, the king heaved, struggling to pull forward out of this man. Unable to get a word out of the councilman, Noctis used warp-strike in one last ditch effort, vanishing out of the strangling grip only to come face to face with the two men who still were bigger than he. The king watched their movements carefully, summoning the Sword of the Father and raising it toward them.

The old man cackled once more, echoing throughout the room as the largest man pounced on the king, shoving him up against the wall with a strong hand over his mouth. “Now, now, Majesty… don’t be so hasty. They just wanted to meet you! These are my boys, your people! Give them a chance to speak with their king, hm?”

Noctis’s eyes went wide as he brought his hand up, his engagement band appeared cloudy by the shadows in the room as he desperately tugged hard on the hand that held his mouth shut. He made a whole mess of muffled noises as he was pushed to the floor; the other men coming over with rope for his wrists, and a scarf for his mouth.

The old man wheezed in a chortle, imitating a tying motion. “Make sure he’s comfortable. We don’t want anything happening to that baby.” He hobbled over to the lamp, clicking it off as he caught Noctis’s fearful blue eyes flicker a glare at him in the final flash of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, any general thoughts on the idea of this one? I hope I "captured" (pun intended) Noctis's personality pretty well. Can you see him calling Gladio "love"?
> 
> Next chapter is very, extremely violent and descriptively gory... so, be prepared for that.
> 
> And good luck to anyone taking finals this week! I have mine in the afternoon tomorrow, wish me luck ;)


	4. Night Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, I apologize for the violence and cruelty in this chapter. I hope you will heed the tags seriously, please.
> 
> I hope you can forgive me for this and for what's to come...
> 
> Noctis... I'm sorry

The moment they dropped his back to the hard, plank floor, the king yelped as dull pain ran up his spine and dispersed, leaving him writhing with his eyes tightly shut. He instinctively gripped his swelling belly when multiple, rough hands began grabbing at him, removing the scarf and the ropes.

“On his feet.”

Noctis opened his eyes at the command of that familiar grainy, raspy tone that spat his way as he angrily glanced around at the five vicious, gruff faces surrounding him. He kicked at them, hoping to get them to back off, but they only grabbed him harder and more forcefully as they brought him to his feet.

“On his knees,” he commanded again, harshly and without missing a beat.

Noctis glared at those pale, green eyes glued to that wrinkled, sunken image of a human being standing in front of him as he struggled against the confines of calloused, pinching palms. Grunting and panting hard, he managed to break out of a smaller man’s grip on his already sore arm, making a run for anywhere but the old man.

“You,” the old man pointed at the rather large man with those gold, venomous eyes. “Grab him.” The towering man grinned, trotting after the frantic king.

Running as fast as he was, Noctis could barely see in front of himself, stumbling over the raised, jagged, precarious planks of the splintery, shadowy warehouse floor. He caught sight of the evening blue seafront through an opening about 30 feet away from him; the overwhelming salty sea air assailed his senses as he shot over to it for the promise of freedom.

He felt like he was flying toward the opening as his feet quickened their pace, sweat beading on every part of his body. The window came closer and closer as he ran, his lungs fit to burst from his heavy panting when he was slammed by an incredibly heavy force, bulky enough that he was almost knocked off of his feet. His right shoulder was pushed into and pierced by a jagged, sharp plank of wood sticking out from the wall. He heard a deep chuckle bouncing around in his ear.

“Howdy, Majesty. You remember me, don’tcha? I’m Rufus,” he introduced himself, shoving Noctis’s torn and bleeding shoulder further into the plank, causing him to wince.

The king yelled, grabbing his shoulder as the pain swallowed his arm. Rufus’s enormous hands then ripped him off of the plank and threw him to the damp floor, following up with flipping him over onto his back while pinning his wrists above his head. In a rush of adrenaline, Noctis summoned a handgun and fumbled to try to point it at the man hovering over him, when a wrinkled hand wriggled it out of his shaky grip.

The king whipped his head up, gasping as he saw the old man’s disgusting, vile grin while he held the gun in his dry, cracked palms.

“Oh no, my king. We must have none of that,” the old man chided softly, throwing the gun to one of his “boys”. “Bring him over here, Rufus.” He hobbled toward the center of the warehouse, his hands folded behind his back as if he were some important executive.

Noctis still fought against the large man’s grip as he was dragged over toward his enemy, trying to writhe enough to get his hands to give slack just a little so he could bolt again. But his strength quickly drained from his body, previously wearing himself out from all the running.

Rufus tightly held the king’s wrists behind his waist, holding him still as two more men came up to keep his arms in place, roughly and unnecessarily tugging them down. Noctis panted through gritted teeth, his jaw tense as sweat ran down his stubbled cheek. He glared at the crinkled, menacing grin of the old man with so much hate.

“Now, Majesty, I want you on your knees.”

Noctis grunted, pulling relentlessly on his restraints. He said nothing.

“I said, ‘on your knees,’ my king.” He motioned at someone behind the king to come forward.

“Fuck you,” the king hissed, leaning toward his adversary. His blue eyes grew dark, flashing the intense anger rising in his heart. “Son of a bitch…”

The old man gasped, his hand holding his chest like he had been personally offended. “Oh, Your Majesty, surely you don’t mean that? You wouldn’t want anything unnecessary to occur now, would you? Down. On your knees!”

Noctis flailed in the men’s strong arms. “Why don’t you make me?”, he breathed hotly.

The old man lifted his eyes at the person behind Noctis, signalling for something. Heavy footsteps crowded the king’s backside, drumming an object that sounded like it was made of wood in their hand.

Noctis’s heart raced at the sound, knowing it was meant for him, but he couldn’t see exactly what it was and that alone, was enough to make him nervous and anticipate with great dread what they had coming for him.

The warehouse fell into silence with the waves crashing into shore the only clamor in the king’s ears. He could feel the pounding of his heart in his head and it hurt. He saw the old man once more give a nod and then it hit him.

The person behind him grunted as he swung a bat at the back of Noctis’s knees, striking them with such intensity and force that the king sharply exhaled, collapsing to his knees. Loud cracks of bruised bone resounded among all four hollow walls as Noctis screamed; his knees crashing to the hard, damp, wooden floor.

“Hold him up,” the old man demanded as Noctis began falling forward. He then pulled out of his back robe pocket, a small, red, glowing capsule and strode up, standing before the kneeling king. “Look at me, Noctis.”

Noctis’s breaths came out shallow and heavy, sobs tearing at his throat as pain-ridden tears formed at the corners of his eyes. He winced, whimpering as the old man grasped his stubbled chin, forcing him to look up at him.

“Didn’t I say that a king should always keep eye contact with his subjects?” He knelt to his level, still holding his chin in place as he showed him the red pill. “Do you see this, my king? This is a special kind of capsule designed specifically by imperial scientists, boasting the exact same properties as the Diamond Weapon: to inhibit and null the Crystal’s power.” He snickered. “Your power, Your Majesty.”

Noctis glanced up into his pale, green eyes, watching each one as fear quickly replaced the stubborn hate in his core.

“I want you to swallow it.” He nodded at the man with the golden eyes. “Rufus, hold him for me.”

Noctis tried pulling his head away immediately at his words, when Rufus’s rough hand came up into the king’s raven locks and jerked them down, yanking his head back. Noctis rasped a strangled exhale as his scalp burned from the pressure.

The old man held his chin tenderly now as a parent would gently scold his own child. “Take it, Majesty, and I’ll let you go.”

Noctis whimpered weakly as a large palm wrapped around his throat and squeezed tightly, causing him to wheeze against the floaters cluttering his vision. He squirmed helplessly as the grips of the three men crushed his arms, leaving large, dark bruises.

The old man pulled Noctis’s jaw open and dropped the capsule into his mouth. “Swallow now, my king. The whole thing,” he cooed, a twinge of playful cruelty in his tone.

The king’s swollen legs pulsed with throbbing pain from being whacked so forcefully that he felt they might give way before this was over. His head was pounding, his vision blurred, and having the capsule thrown down his throat as Rufus coiled his calloused hand around his neck made him choke and cough as he gasped for air.

“All the way, Noctis.”

Rufus smiled down at the king, rolling his palm against his throat to help the pill go down. “Go on, Majesty. Swallow it and make my boss happy, you beautiful man,” he purred into his ear.

Once the capsule left his throat and traveled down into his body, Rufus released his red, bruised neck as the old man slowly backed away. “Good. Good, my little king.”

Noctis fell to his hands and harshly coughed out clumps of saliva that had gathered in his cheeks as his throat burned like he had gulped down fire. Everything hurt like hell and suddenly, he felt some strange, rippling wave thread through his whole body.

The old man grinned, extending his hand to urge the king on. “Try now, Your Majesty. Summon one of your weapons, hm?” Rufus chuckled darkly under his breath, knowing just what kind of game his boss was playing. “Give my men a little fun.”

Noctis hastily flexed his hand, attempting to summon something, anything...

Nothing.

He tried again, but still nothing. His labored breathing and rising panic took over any logical reasoning in his mind why he shouldn’t even try it anymore.

He flexed his shaky hands over and over again, rousing a vile cackle out of the old man’s cracked lips, amused at how easily he had convinced him of his own helplessness. “My king, look around you now. Your people have come to see you.”

Hearing a large crowd of heavy boots approaching him, Noctis glanced frantically at the walls around him, as all of these gruff-looking men came stepping out of the shadows. There were 25, maybe 30, or even 40 men gathered on both sides of the darkened warehouse. The five men that stood close by the king looked to the old man for his next command.

“Now, sir?”, the man, Rufus asked. Noctis flinched at his deep, drawled voice.

The old man grinned and nodded, turning to the side to glare at Noctis through half-lidded eyes. “Strip him, boys.”

Noctis lifted his head in terror at the old man’s instruction, moving to stand up only to find himself falling back down from his trembling, painful legs. He yelled, throwing his head back as Rufus grabbed his shoulders, pushing him to the ground as the other men went for his pants.

“Now I get to see what you really look like underneath, purdy man,” he looked him up and down hungrily, fondling the king’s now bare ass. “Mm-hm… so beautiful.”

Noctis tried to push himself up away from these men, but only weakly flailed in vain against their quick, inappropriate hands against his flesh, ripping all of his clothes off until he was completely exposed. “Stop!”, he cried, gasping as he turned over, gripping his belly.

The old man cleared his throat. “Easy, boys! Remember, the baby.”

Rufus yanked Noctis up to his trembling feet, holding him before the grand crowd of men, all smirking, gawking and cat-calling at the naked king. “He’s all ours, boys!”

The crowd cheered then, making rude gestures as many of them stepped closer with their hands reaching for him. “Hey, pretty thing, I want you to be mine,” one of them said.

“You want a real man, Majesty? C’mere, gimme a kiss,” another cooed, making kissy sounds.

“Lemme fuck ‘im, Rufus. He’s beautiful!”

“Godsdamn, he’s gorgeous! I want him under me, begging for me!”

“Wonder how wet he is right now. Let me feel how soft and squishy his pussy is!”

“You’re teasing me, Rufus! Those thighs are giving me a hard-on…”

“Never knew a king could look so sweet and sexy…”

“He’s all curvy… bring him closer, Rufus, I wanna squeeze him!”

Noctis squirmed and trembled in Rufus’s arms, watching the brutal lust and hunger flicker in all of their vicious eyes. He couldn’t stand anymore, slipping down from the large man’s strong biceps. He moaned in pain, his knees cracking as he bent them.

“Stand up, ‘king’,” he spit that last word to the floor as he gripped Noctis’s swelling breast and roughly kneaded it. “Well, I’ll be… you’ve got your own pair of tits now, don’t ya?”

Noctis groaned as he moved his hands up to rip Rufus’s off of him. This was disgusting, and he didn’t want anymore of it. “Get… off,” he murmured feebly, tugging on the man’s grip. “Stop this…”

After conceiving the precious, little life four months ago, Noctis’s body had indeed begun to grow breasts; intended to provide milk for the baby.

“You say ‘tits’, Rufus? Well, I’ll be damned to the 7th hell… bring him to me! I want ‘im!”

“Me first. I’ve got bigger hands than you, and he needs bigger than what he’s got.”

“What a king… mm-mm, I wanna thrust into him so fast that he’s bouncing up and down and screaming my name while those gorgeous breasts are-”

“Gentlemen!”

All the wild males fell silent at their boss’s call, backing away from Noctis, who looked about to fall over. Rufus held him tight to his chest, hugging him like he was about to disappear.

The old man clucked his tongue, hobbling over to them. “No wild sex yet, boys. First, bring him over to the wall.” He motioned with one claw of a blood-crusted fingernail for them to follow him.

Rufus picked Noctis up bridal style and carried him over with a vile grin on his scarred mouth. He leaned down into the king’s neck. “Boss’s gonna do what he wants with ya, then yer all mine.” The lustful purr in his tone made Noctis shiver as he shut his eyes from the pain of his legs being dangled.

As soon as he set the king down on his feet, Noctis gasped and crumpled to his hands and knees as sobs welled up in his aching throat. The old man came up and pulled his hair back, making Noctis cry out as he forced him to look up into his pale, green, malicious eyes.

“Now, Your Majesty… you seem to have tickled my men’s fancies. Quite the beauty you are! And I want to feel you for myself,” he stated, a wicked smirk passed his dry, purple lips. “Oh yes… it’s all working so nicely.”

The thought of being touched so intimately by this crusty, old rat had Noctis wanting to back up against the wall and bring his hands down to cover his most private parts of his nakedness. How had he gotten into this? What did these men want? They hadn’t made clear exactly what they were after, so the king could only guess they wanted to kill him. But if that was the case, wouldn’t they have done it by now?

There had to be a reason why they were keeping him alive. Toying with him, lusting after him… beating him to the ground. But his head hurt too much to think anymore. He didn’t want to think about just what they intended on doing to him. He was weak, exhausted, pregnant and he wished someone to cut his painful legs off so he wouldn’t have to suffer that anymore.

“Noctis. Look at me, my king.” He pulled his raven strands harder, leaning in close to his face. “I won’t take you tonight, no. Tonight is only a formality, a chance to get to know you on the outside. Those thighs of yours are the only part of you I want to touch. I want to see just how your lover makes you tremble at his hands.” He released his grip on the king’s locks, stepping just out of the way before signalling at the shadows across the room.

Thinking fondly of Gladio, Noctis tried his hardest to gather his wits about him, knowing he had to spur himself on if he was ever going to get back to his lover again. Back to Insomnia… back home. His legs throbbed so painfully and having to put any pressure or weight on them was pure agony in itself. He let himself fall over onto his side, just so he could relieve his weight off his legs.

Suddenly, he began to panic again when he heard the rustled clanking of chains being brought over to him. He weakly attempted to pull his body along the splintery, wet floor as the two men with the chains came closer; they grabbed both of his wrists and pinned him against the wall. They hooked the chains tightly around both wrists and strung him up just so he had to tiptoe on the floor, his legs pulsating and stinging like they were going to be ripped off his hips. His wrists burned and were being stretched beyond their limit, rubbed red and raw from the chains.

He could hear the explicit cat-calls and numerous kissy sounds and vicious coos from the shadows as the old man looked him up and down, nodding his approval. “I see now why your lover takes so long dragging you out of bed in the morning. You are beautiful, Majesty.” The old man slowly inched his wrinkly hands toward the king’s pale, sweaty thighs, sliding the tips of his fingers along them. He grinned wickedly as Noctis’s thighs began to quiver and shake at the callous caress. “Ah, yes… tremble for me. That is just what I want to see.”

Noctis moaned in protest, fisting his hands as he tried to wiggle his lower region away from those cruel, callous digits. “No, get away…” He gasped as he unintentionally made his limp member brush up against the man’s bald head.

“Oh, Majesty, are you that eager? I’m sorry, but I don’t feel up to that right now. I supposed I can satiate your lust for sex tomorrow…,” he cackled, pressing his chapped lips to Noctis’s tip.

“Ahn- no! I didn’t mean…” His voice came out strangled and hoarse from the pain he suffered.

The old man kissed both thighs on the inside, getting the king to squirm and pant, whose body was unwillingly responding to the geezer’s teasing caresses. “Patience, my king. You must learn patience.”

Rufus stepped forward then, raising his hand. “Sir, if I may, could I touch him just a little bit tonight?”

Noctis struggled to lift his head to watch as the man winked at him from the side. The rusty chains chafed his wrists as he twisted in them, whining as the pain grew from being suspended against gravity’s pull. “Let me down… please…”

The old man turned back toward the king, raising a long, gray brow. “What was that, Majesty?”

“I-,” the king paused, watching as all eyes were on his vulnerable form. He groaned then, as his body all of a sudden felt heavier. “Please, let me down!”

Rufus crowded into him, pressing his back against the wall as he placed one large palm on the small of his back while the other caressed his left breast. “Patience, my lovely. He said be patient,” he chuckled, rubbing little circles on Noctis’s tailbone, causing him to gasp sharply. “You’ll have plenty of time fer that…” He backed off again.

Just then, the shackles released Noctis’s wrists, letting him fall to the floor with a horrific crack of his knees. He screamed in agony, falling on his side as Rufus came to straddle over his waist, roughly rubbing all over his pregnant belly. The crowd of men cheered and hollered at the whole scene, mocking Noctis’s shouts of pain.

The old man walked slowly over to the two on the floor, grabbing the king’s stubbled chin to hold it in place. “Kiss him, Rufus.”

Noctis’s weary eyes went wide at this, beginning to greatly fear this large, golden-eyed man whom the crowd seemed to cheer for. The king’s sobs wracked his gasps as he squirmed underneath the man’s heavy body.

“It’s an honor, Majesty,” he purred, taking Noctis’s vulnerable mouth in a brutal tongue kiss. The crowd cheered louder as they stepped closer, leering at the king’s bruised, naked flesh.

Noctis whined desperately into the man’s hot mouth, feeling the sharp scar on his upper lip as he tried pushing on his chest to get him off. Tears welled up in his exhausted blue eyes, willing this man to leave him.

The old man chortled along with the crowd of men, enjoying the pitiful sight of the king struggling in vain. “Don’t resist him, Majesty, you shall soon belong to him…” He leaned closer to his ear, grinning at the tearful moans Noctis made. “To all of us…”

The deadly poison that dripped from the old man’s words left little hope in Noctis’s heart, glancing blearily through his tears at the silver engagement band on his left finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anything here bothered you, I urge you not to continue reading on, unless of course you do... then I warn you here and now for the future.
> 
> Comments are appreciated and I love reading them! I hope you'll let me know how it turned out in your opinion.
> 
> Thank you.


	5. The Mark of a King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has the descriptive gore and violence in it, so please be wary. It's so heartbreaking...
> 
> Also, big rant from me coming in the end notes, so... um, you can read my babbles or not, it's up to you :)
> 
> Hope you can forgive me for this!

There was a gentle knock on the heavy door to their enormous bedroom just as Gladio was getting to the best part of his dream: making love to Noctis in the middle of a big, blue lake under the water, somewhere no one could find them. His raven crown thrown back and his legs wide open as Gladio pressed his flesh up against his lover’s. The soft swirl of the water dancing around their pulsing sex as they locked fingers and twirled among the waves… Groaning, he turned over to face the door while kneading his sleepy eyes. “Yeah? Who is it?”, he whispered hoarsely, careful not to wake his lover.

“It’s Ignis, Gladio. Might I come in?” He asked this with the purest of intentions, knowing full well that the king and his shield may be having a bit of a morning romp; considering the multiple groans and drowsy sighs coming from within. “Or would I be interrupting something?”

The shield yawned with a slight chuckle, sitting up. “Nah, come in, Iggy.” He glanced over to the empty side of the bed and saw that it hadn’t even been slept in. “Noct didn’t make it to the bed.” ‘Poor baby, must’ve fallen asleep in his study again,’ he thought adoringly, smiling at the thought of Noctis sleeping across his desk like last night.

Ignis popped through the doors. “He’s not?”

“No. He probably dozed off doing paperwork again. I’ll go get him, Iggy.”

“Gladio, Noct isn’t in his study,” he told him with great concern. “I checked earlier this morning.”

Gladio paused from stretching his arms in the air, squinting at the advisor among the bright light of morning filtering through the dark curtains. “Wait… what? What time is it?”

Ignis pressed two fingers to his temple, trying to sense the position and warmth of the sun for the correct time. “It’s around 11:30. Did he tell you he would be coming to bed last night?”

Gladio hurried out of the bed, jogging toward the closet to pick his clothes out. “Yeah. Yeah, he said he’d be in soon. But he’s not in his study? Iggy, are you sure? Maybe you missed him,” he got out in one breath, clearly freaking out by this news. “He’s a pretty heavy sleeper, especially with the baby now and all.”

Ignis fixed his glasses, coming over to rummage through Noctis’s nightstand. “I’m confident I didn’t miss him, Gladio. Talcott was by earlier and I asked him to wake Noct with me. He was certainly not there.” The only things the advisor found in the king’s nightstand were: a half empty bottle of lube, a couple of both used and unwrapped condoms, chapstick, a few tissues and his cellphone.

The cell phone seemed a dead giveaway that their king had not retired here the night before.

“Gladio, his phone is here,” he called to his friend, clicking the screen on.

Gladio reappeared from the giant closet in a burgundy, ¾ sleeve button up, black jeans and brown boots. “Iggy, you think maybe he’s in the council hall? Or the throne room? Maybe he’s with Prompto?”

Ignis could sense the anxious tone in Gladio’s voice as he typed in Prompto’s number. “It’s not likely, seeing as Prompto has been quite busy on the other side of the city… but we’ll try it.”

“Better than nothing. I’m gonna go check the throne room, he likes to snooze there sometimes too.”

Gladio took off as Prompto answered on the other line after a few rings. _“Noct? Hey, buddy! What’s up? You haven’t called me in a long time. You too busy with all your kingly duties?”_

Ignis sighed. “Prompto, this is Ignis. I need to ask if you’ve seen Noct recently?”

_“Igster? Whatcha doin’ with Noct’s phone?”_

“Please, just answer my question, Prompto! Have you seen Noct today or heard from him? What about last night?” He sputtered it all out at once, leaving Prompto confused.

_“Woah, woah! Iggy, slow down! Uh, have I seen him? No, I haven’t seen him for about a month, and he usually doesn’t call me that often like you guys do. Why? What’s wrong?”_

“I was afraid of that,” Ignis said solemnly. “Prompto, I don’t know where Noct is. I’ve discussed it with almost everyone in the Citadel. Gladio is checking the throne room as we speak, but I have my doubts.”

Prompto hummed through the static of the phone. _“Oh, he’s not still in bed with Gladio? Ha, that’s a shock! You don’t think he’s out getting something?”_

“Getting what, exactly?”

_“I dunno… whatever he needs?”_

Ignis massaged his temple in frustration. “Prompto, I’m going to look some more. And if we haven’t found anything, I’ll ask you to please, report back here to help us?”

_“Yeah, sure. Um, Iggy, you don’t think… something could’ve happened, right? I mean, Noct is king, he’s safe, right?”_

Silence for a minute. “I have… some reasons to doubt that he is, Prompto.”

_“What do you mean?! He’s not safe?”_

“Prompto… please. Remain calm, I am trying to work through this as best I can. Perhaps the king just went for a walk. The doctor did advise that it would be helpful,” he reasoned, maintaining a steadiness to his words even when he was equally as distraught as the blonde.

_“You’re probably right, Iggy. Keep looking, okay? I’ll be back later tonight to help you, if you haven’t found him by then,”_ the blonde assured him. _“But, I’m sure you will. Noct isn’t very hard to find,”_ he chuckled.

“Thank you, Prompto. I hope to find him before dusk… hopefully he’s keeping warm. I’ll talk to you soon.”

_“Good luck, Iggy.”_ He hung up.

》》》》》》

Gladio stomped back down from the throne room sweatier than a warhorse. He shoved his fingers into his brown locks and pulled, feeling incredibly overwhelmed by Noctis’s strange, sudden disappearance. ‘Where the hell? Noct, baby, where’d you run off to…?’

The marshal exited an elevator just to his right, holding a few paper reports from the group of Crownsguard members, who had just reported in with some important findings. He stepped out and walked right into the shield. “Ah- Gladio. How are you?”

Gladio turned around immediately at the bump in his back. “Cor? Uh, hey. You haven’t seen Noct at all, have you?”

Cor pondered for a moment, shifting the papers in his arms. “Ah, no, I’m afraid I haven’t. I would’ve thought His Majesty still in bed, considering how much work he had yesterday.”

“He didn’t even come to bed.”

“That’s odd. Although now that I think about it, Ignis has been rather diligent about finding the king today. Please tell me he’s not missing?”

Gladio shook his head. “That's what we're thinking. He’s gotta be around here somewhere… he couldn’t have left the Citadel, he was too tired!”

Cor nudged his arm, urging him to follow as he strode down the hall. “Have you spoken with the royal council yet, Gladio? Perhaps they might know.”

“Not yet,” he said, quick to walk beside the marshal. “What do you think they’d know?”

“Well, I know a few of them do have their secrets. Some have been known to wander the Citadel at night, gathering various amounts of both gossip and useful information. Perhaps they know where the king has gotten to.”

“Sure hope they do.” He ran a hand through his hair, remembering just how tired Noctis was the night before. He should’ve carried him into bed… so why didn’t he?

》》》》》

“So, where do you think His Majesty is then? If he’s not in his study, the throne room or his room? Is there any other important place for a king to go?”

Talcott wondered aloud as he and Ignis walked the Citadel grounds in the bright midday sun. There was no sign of their king anywhere in the Citadel, meaning anything could’ve happened.

“Ignis? You think he’s alright? I know he’s got his duties to tend to, and that baby he’s going to have, so I’m sure he’s exhausted… but, have we really checked everywhere?” He skipped closer to the advisor, leaning over. “Double checked?”

 Ignis hummed, slowing his pace as he thought a little harder. “Yes. We’ve double and triple checked the throne room, the council room, his room, and his study… I even asked all of the maids and butlers to check the most inconspicuous of places… still nothing.”

“Do you think Prompto would know?”

“I’ve already called and confirmed that Prompto has no idea either.”

It had been three hours since they started their search for their king, very unsuccessfully. Nothing seemed to turn up, however many times they rechecked their routes. By this point, Ignis was exhausted; he had been looking far longer than anyone else, feeling completely on the edge of panic mode.

Why couldn’t they find him? It wasn’t like he would just up and leave in the middle of the night, being king and also four months pregnant. If he did, what would possess him to? He told Gladio he would be to bed soon and as tired as he was that night, wouldn’t have skipped it.

Ignis was about to check on him in his study, but something else came up so he had to send-

“Councilman Sumner!” The advisor ran off back up to the steps of the Citadel, leaving Talcott in a glaze of bewilderment.

“Uh, Ignis? Where are you going? Hey, wait!!”

》》》》》》

Gladio left to the solitude of the throne room, sitting on the arm of the black, marble throne unable to come up with any answers from all the members of the royal council. It was pure agony, not knowing where the hell Noctis was and the shield was on the verge of going out alone to find him. “Noct… baby, I wish you had just come to bed with me. You were so tired… I should’ve picked you up anyway, and let you punish me all you wanted under the covers,” he chuckled, feeling a deep sense of regret.

He glanced down at the baby present he was holding that arrived earlier that morning; it was from Iris, all the way back in Lestallum. “We could’ve opened this in bed together. You know, you and that baby mean everything to me. I wouldn’t care if we were poor, wearing rags and out of luck… I’d love you no matter what, Noct. King or not…”

It was getting late now, the sun just beginning to set. If they were going to find him, they had to do it soon. Searching in the dark was never a good idea, but it had to be done. Gladio resolved to get out there as fast as he could, running down the stairs instead of taking the elevator. He was going alone.

He felt this was his responsibility, and he wasn’t going to let his Noctis slip out of his fingers. He grabbed up the keys to his car at the front desk and headed out the numerous steps of the Citadel with no word to anyone.

》》》》》》

The unbearable odor of salty, musty wood permeated his nose and made him gasp, flinching into an upright position. Upon moving from his prone state that he had been glued to for gods know how long, it hurt like hell for his battered legs. They throbbed and pulsed, the blood rushing back into his right as he had been laying on it. He groaned, holding it steady as the numbness overwhelmed it.

When he opened his red, sore eyes, he found he was still naked and bruised; stuck in the middle of this broken down warehouse. But glancing around, he saw that he was alone right now. It seemed strange, recalling just how nightmarish the night before had been.

Surrounded by those massive throngs of men, all looking to roam their hands into each one of his secret places and violate him in a way they could feel proud doing so. It disgusted him to no end. Just the thought of seeing the whole army of lewd and brutal men again, was enough to make Noctis’s stomach turn sour and his body shudder; he remembered the savage glares in each one of their eyes.

But the worst part about last night, was that man… that man with the golden eyes, Rufus, for whom the entire crowd of men cheered for and egged on. Noctis concluded he must be someone important to them, someone of great power and or strength. He knew because he felt it in his grip, when the man held him before those horrid, gawking faces.

Why was he here? How had this happened to him? WHERE was he? The last thing he remembered, was being awoken in his study by that balding old man, who had pounded those impossible questions into his head during the meeting four months ago. He was… kidnapped? Kidnapped. The King of Lucis, kidnapped and beaten. How could he have let this happen?

He ran through all these questions in his mind, his head still throbbing from the evening before. But he had no answers. All he was aware of was that he was in pain, and needed some sort of plan to get out of here and away from these men. Who knew what they were planning next?

Trying his hardest to disregard the excruciating pain in his legs, he forced himself to stand. Luckily, he was close to a wall, albeit a splintered, damp wall that he could support his weight against as his legs began to wobble and burn. He grunted through it, shaking from the chill of the morning sea breeze. He really didn’t want to fall, dreading the agony he would suffer if he landed on his knees again.

Leaning weakly against the wall, he glanced down at his naked body with a disgusted grimace. His arms had blotches of deep, purple bruises, and another spot of purple on his swelling middle that stretched diagonally from the left side of his waist to his navel. He knew exactly where that one had come from, when he could still vaguely remember the feel of the golden-eyed man’s hands on his belly again.

His growing breasts also had bruises: light, purple fingerprints marked around both his nipples and at just a touch, they ached and felt so sore. His milky flesh now looked like someone had painted him polka dot. He began to tremble again at the pain shooting up his thighs from his knees, moaning as he felt his body start to collapse on its own. He gave in, slowly lowering himself to the wet, musty plank floor.

He lay there for a moment, shivering in the cold of the ocean wind when he spotted a familiar object in the pale morning shadows just a few feet from him. He squinted through his bleary, sleepy eyes and saw the form of a handgun. It was the same one he had pulled out last night. ‘How stupid they were to just leave it like that,’ Noctis muttered quietly to himself. He knew this was his only option, picking up the handgun and shooting whoever came close to him. He knew he couldn’t summon any other weapon, that thread of emptiness still present in his system.

He slowly shifted over onto his belly in an attempt to crawl over to the handgun. Gods, this place smelled awful, every breath made him sick to his stomach. He steadily inched each bruised arm in front of the other, wincing every time his belly, chest and thighs scraped against the splintery, jagged floor.

Before he knew it, he had reached the handgun and grabbed for it. He held it between both hands like a prize as if he had worked so hard for it. He silently congratulated himself, picking himself up into a sitting position again. Taking a deep breath, he settled against the wall and cocked the gun, pointing it away into the shadows of the warehouse.

He waited and waited, watching and listening for footsteps or the presence of another human being; his heart pounded against his chest, beating wildly as he sighed shakily multiple times at the suspense. Suddenly, he jolted when the sound of heavy, wet boots stomped onto the planks of the wood floor. But it wasn’t just one pair, it was 2… 3… 7… 12… he lost count as his hands began to shake and he almost dropped the gun.

The worst part, as the staggering number of men entered into this building, was that he couldn’t see them very well. He took to counting how many footsteps he heard come through that little opening at the other end again. He had reached at least 42, when still more poured in, making him fearfully nervous at just how many were coming in to see him. Touch him maybe, or possibly something else entirely; going all the way for each one of them to have sex with him… gods, no, that was the thing he feared most. He knew he would never survive that.

They had to know that too and take it into consideration, if they wanted to keep him alive. For now at least.

By now, there had to be around 60 men, all crowding each wall, waiting for something to happen; there could be even more, but Noctis couldn’t even be sure there was 60. He guessed they couldn’t see him very well either, given the numerous whispering among them all. He wondered if they were waiting for that old balding man again, the same one who was able to command all of their attention with one word.

The same man who had betrayed his king.

In the midst of their low, silent whispering, in walked one more pair of heavy boots. But they made a jangling sound as the person strode across the room, like they had some kind of metal spurs on them. Noctis froze in his shooting form, his breaths rapid with rising panic when the looming, jangling shadow came closer and closer toward him.

The whispering fell into real silence as the person stopped about 10 feet away from the king, tapping his jangling foot against the loose planks. “Murphy!”, the person called out in a deep, drawled voice that Noctis knew immediately who it belonged to.

The king flinched at the break in the quiet, the man’s shout echoing throughout all corners.

“Find His Majesty and bring him to me.”

Someone started walking, Noctis guessed Murphy as he held the gun steady, ready to fire when he emerged from the shadows. He assumed just how close Murphy was coming towards him and aimed the gun where he thought his head might be, pulling the trigger.

“BANG!!”

The whole building echoed with gasps as Murphy’s limp form fell mere inches from the wall of shadows, his head leaking a pool of blood beside his skull. Noctis smirked slightly, knowing that the man couldn’t possibly be alive now.

He heard that drawled voice yell in heated anger and unquenchable rage. “Grab the little, royal bastard, boys! Bring him HERE!!”

The only area of shadows that moved at the command were the ones closest to the king, shuffling and scrambling for him. Noctis whipped his head left and right, pointing the gun in each direction and shooting at every movement he thought he heard or saw. Multiple groans and gasps hit the floor, meaning Noctis had shot them at least, but didn’t know if they were dead or not.

Before the crowd reached him, Rufus stepped out of the shadows, his golden eyes burning intensely with hatred as he strode towards the fearful king. As soon as he caught sight of Noctis’s naked form, he leapt for him while the king fired numerous shots into the darkness around them.

But before Noctis could make a move to get away, those same strong, brutal hands grabbed him and pulled him into the shadows; forcing him down on his back as the man pinned his left hand holding the gun, to the floor.

“The hell did you find a gun?! Where’d you find it, Majesty? Huh? Where?!” The more intense his voice became, the harder he pressed his spurred boot on Noctis’s gun-wielding wrist. “You killed him! You killed my best friend in this whole godsdamn world… and I’ll bet you think it’s funny, don’tcha?!”

Noctis winced, crying out in pain as he felt his bones crunching inside his wrist like they were ready to break. He squirmed against the man straddling his waist, who then grabbed his wrist from under his spurred boot and held it in a diagonal position.

“I should think this will be little for equal punishment, but you’ll git what you rightfully deserve once my boss arrives.” He smoothed over Noctis’s aching hand for a moment, then he flipped it forcefully back in the opposite direction; causing an awful bone-cracking sound that made Noctis scream. He grinned at the writhing king below him as he ripped the handgun out of his hand. “Aw, it’s not that bad, Majesty! Just a little broken wrist so you don’t shoot any more of my friends.”

Noctis tearily glanced up into Rufus’s piercing gold eyes, attempting to glare at him, but the pain in his shattered wrist made him grimace as he whimpered.

“Look at all the beautiful marks we made on your body, Majesty. They’re absolutely perfect… all that milky white skin…” He ran his coarse hand along Noctis’s ribs as he hummed a tune. “But that’ll all change very soon, you beautiful man. I can’t wait till you belong to me… all mine.”

Noctis gasped when the man leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, licking at his beard stubble. “Where is… he?”, he choked out through his pain.

Rufus pulled away and raised his arms at the crowd of men with a huge grin on his face. “He speaks! Ya hear that?! He spoke to me!”

The whole room erupted in hollers as Noctis strained to lift himself on his elbows. “Where is he?”, he repeated in frustration.

Rufus held the back of his raven head and yanked him close to his face, gazing into his sapphires with an adoring look. “Who, Majesty? Who?”

“Him… the old man… where is he?”

“I don’t think you have the right to demand that from me. King or not, I don’t answer to demands, only to pleading,” he said dangerously low, slamming Noctis’s head against the wood floor as he motioned to the men surrounding them. “Boys, let ‘im know just what I mean. Do what you please! Just… don’t kill him,” he added, stepping away as many bulky men rushed for the king.

“No! I need-!” He was cut off by a swift kick to his ribcage, leaving him gasping for breath. Another kick to his other side had him turning over to his previous injury, only to feel rough hands pulling him up by his hair. He reached for those treacherous hands with only his right hand as his left still throbbed with the pain of being broken. The burning in his scalp made him scream and cry against his weight being suspended so savagely like that.

Rufus gawked with a big smile on his scarred lips as the king’s tears flowed steadily down his stubbled cheeks when the hands raised him higher. “What do ya need, Majesty? You’ve got a voice, use it! Whatcha need?!”

“Down!! Down!! Please!!!”, he cried over and over, trying to kick his legs when the pain overwhelmed him and he gave up, letting them dangle. “Please!!”

“You want down, Majesty? Well, he did say please… awright, let ‘im down, boys. But don’t stop there!”

They dropped Noctis on his side, causing him to shout in his agony as they continued their assault of kicks and punches; being very careful not to jostle the baby inside as their boss requested.

Through the commotion came a loud, shrill whistle that made all the men freeze. All of them, but Rufus, who turned toward the source of the interruption.

It was the old, balding man, who stepped forward with a not-so-pleased look on his wrinkled face. “Gentlemen! What in the name of Bahamut is going on here?!”

They all stayed silent, parting like the ocean waves so that the old man could see the bruised king hunched over on his side with tears streaming down his face as he heaved heavy, shallow breaths.

The old man turned toward Rufus, a piercing glare in his pale eyes. “Rufus, what have you been doing to him? I thought I made it clear, this isn’t what we came here for today.”

“The little, royal shit shot Murphy, sir. Killed ‘im.”

The old man raised a long, gray brow. “Shot him? Where did he get a gun-... ah, because someone forgot to take it away last night, didn’t they? Like I asked?” He watched as Noctis tried to push himself up from the floor, when his wrist gave way and he fell on his face with a loud whimper. “You also did that I’m assuming?”

Rufus nodded, circling his boss while keeping his gaze fixed on the king. “Yea, he deserves more than that though. I would rather have started without you, sir,” he forced the last word.

“Rufus,” the old man glanced at him from the corner of his half-lidded eyes. “I’m beginning to lose my patience.”

“So am I,” he replied, kicking a piece of plank wood so hard that it flew across the warehouse with a loud thud. “Why won’t you just lemme fuck the royal ass? He needs it, he even begged ya fer it last night! I want ‘im so bad, I couldn’t control myself in bed!”

“As I’ve told you,” he walked up to Noctis. “Patience. Stay within the lines of our plan, Rufus. Everything in good time.”

Rufus scoffed.

Plan? They had this planned? Noctis wondered just how long they had this planned for him, and what they had in mind to do. Listening to this conversation had the king wishing he could say or do something that would whisk him away from these men, or at the very least, convince them to stop this.

It was clear that Rufus was his main threat right now, hearing him say he wanted to fuck him so bad that he couldn’t control himself. Noctis didn’t want to think about it, knowing how violent and brutal he had been with him already. And the way his golden eyes glared at him… lusted after him… it churned the king’s stomach and gave rise to the fear he tried to keep hidden in his heart.

He glanced up through his wet, raven bangs at all of those gruff, malice-ridden faces that looked at him like he was some piece of meat or a prize earned from a successful hunt. He turned his head away, closing his eyes as a burning trailed up both of his kicked sides.

“Now, gentlemen, if you please, bring the king back over to the wall.”

Oh no… he couldn’t go back to that wall, not again. If they suspended his wrists above him, he wasn’t sure his broken wrist would still hold to his body. Noctis squirmed, making little whimpering sounds as they picked his painful body up by his arms, carrying him over.

Noctis glanced up, catching the old man’s smiling gaze before he had to close his sapphires again; his poor, sore body wracked by his bruised flesh and bones. He flinched as the old man snapped his fingers, the sound ringing in his ears.

“Bring me the chain, boys. And make sure to chain him with his back to me.”

Noctis’s eyes flew open at the sound of those chains rattling as they brought them over to him. He dreaded those things… feared what was to come next after they had him bound. He yelled when they grabbed both of his wrists, pinning them up against the jagged, musty surface as he sat on his aching knees. He heaved a sigh, grateful that at least he wasn’t being suspended like last time.

But the instant they applied pressure and slammed his left shattered wrist into the cuff, he let out a strained yelp, gritting his teeth as he tried to breathe in and out steadily. They cuffed his other wrist with little difficulty, still earning a groan from the king at the rough gesture.

The old man clicked his tongue, studying the king’s naked backside with a wandering gaze. His back laid out a smooth, milky surface with a light pink scar running down his spine. Other than that, it was flawless and the old man licked his lips at the thought of having this virgin flesh at his mercy. “Blindfold him.”

“NO!”, Noctis cried out, writhing against his restraints. “NO, NO, NO! Please!! Please, NO!” His voice came out scratchy and hoarse, his pleas tumbling out with a squeak as one of the men came up and draped the blindfold over his eyes, tying it tight; making every moment that passed even darker.

Noctis began to cry as his vision was stripped from him. Being chained up close to the wall was bad enough, but actually losing the use of an important, crucial part of his body scared him to death. Now he couldn’t see what they were doing to him, and that in and of itself led him to believe he wasn’t ever going to get out of this.

He felt the old man’s wrinkly palm touch his shoulder, causing him to flinch as his hand came up to caress his stubbled chin. “Now, Majesty…,” he crackly purred. “I’m going to teach you all the things a king ought to learn before he can ever take his place on the throne. You will learn these things quite quickly if you do as I say.”

Noctis whimpered through his sobs, the chill, lonely wind of the growing evening brushing across his bare flesh. The old man pressed a kiss to his shoulder as he tensed and shivered at every little touch.

“You see, Majesty,” he began, smoothing over the king’s milky white shoulder. “A king must always be ready to listen to his people, to heed their wants, needs, pleas, and cries. From the most important things, to the tiniest, trivial things… putting forth his willing ears while blinding himself of his prideful, judgemental gaze.” He tenderly traced his fingers along the king’s jawline as he spoke close to his ear. “Do you understand my instruction, Noctis?”

Noctis trembled, letting out a high-pitched gasp as his actual name rolled off that vicious tongue for the first time.

“Good,” he finished, purposefully dragging his dry, calloused finger across Noctis’s jaw and down over his nape before pulling away. “Now, we’re going to play a little game, and in this game I will ask you some questions. For every question you get wrong or fail to answer… there will be serious reprimand, but I’ll leave that a surprise. And at the end of game, however many questions you answered wrong or took too long to answer… well, I’ll keep that a surprise for you too.”

Noctis could hear the various chuckles and giggles from all around him as his heart beat wildly with each shallow breath. He could tell Rufus was very close to him, his hot breath wafting over his way.

“My first question, Noctis: what was your father’s full given name?” He made sure to say every word loud enough so that it echoed through all corners of the warehouse.

Noctis heard nothing but his own nervous breathing now, his heart thumping so hard through the suspense. His father’s name? He knew this, so why wasn’t he saying anything? He shivered in the silence, still no words coming from his mouth.

He yelped as freezing cold water was suddenly splashed up on his back, his lungs hitching for breath as he arched forward.

“I’ll ask you again, Noctis: what was your father’s FULL GIVEN NAME?”

He opened his mouth to speak as little squeaks fell from his lips. “R-Regis… L-Lucis… C-Caelum…”, he managed weakly, dropping his head from the exhaustion of constant pressure.

“Are you certain that is your final answer?”

The king remained silent, his voice whimpering through his heavy breaths. Again, he yelped louder, arching higher as more freezing water was thrown onto his back.

“You know this, Noctis,” the old man began to shout now. “What was your father’s full given name?!”

Noctis groaned as he tried to lift his head so he could speak clearly; the cold water trailing down his naked torso and down his sore, shaking thighs. “King… R-Regis L-Lucis Caelum…”

“Is that all? Are you sure?” What did he mean? Of course that was his father’s name, what the hell else was he looking for? “Y-yes,” he squeaked, already completely done with this game.

But the old man wasn’t and made sure Noctis knew that as one of the men snapped a loose chain in the air, making the king jolt at the hideous sound. Then another round of frigid water was slammed into his pale, fragile, shuddering back flesh. “One more time, Noctis, I’ll give you one last chance to answer this correctly: your father’s full given birth name.”

Noctis arched and shifted on his cracking knees, stuttering out his last answer. “K-King… Regis… L-Lucis… C-C-Caelum… CXIII!!” He let his head drop forward once more as he exhaled the last of his energy he had; his raven strands flowing freely beside his stubbled cheeks.

The old man sighed in grand satisfaction as he praised the weary king. “Yes! Yes, very good, Noctis. A reigning king must know the names and feats of those before him... Now, the next question…”

Noctis let out a bewildered huff, lifting his head to sigh out loud as he prepared his tired mind for the next firing of questions.

“Who was the line of kings supposed to end with?”

Oh gods… why? Why this question in particular? What was he trying to get out of the king? Still, Noctis couldn’t find the words to speak… or perhaps he just didn’t want to answer this. He thought they had to know the answer, but maybe they wanted to hear it come from his mouth for clarity. Whatever their reason, he didn’t want to say anything, so he kept silent; bracing himself for the reprimand he was to receive now.

But once it came, he regretted staying quiet. He screamed hoarsely, flinging his head back as the crack of the chain flew against his back, striking it and leaving a broad, gaping bloody wound across his spine. Tears filled his eyes beneath the blindfold, already soaking through it as his entire body trembled.

“Noctis, who?! Who was the line of kings supposed to END with?!”

The chain whipped across his back over and over again as the old man awaited an answer. Noctis’s whole backside stung and burned, blood trickling down his ass.

“Who, NOCTIS?! Tell me, now!”

“ME!”, he screamed desperately against the rapid cracking and striking of the chain over his poor, bloody, bruised back. “ME! ME! It was… supposed… to end… w-with me…” Tears slipped down from the blindfold and nestled into his sweaty, stubbled cheeks.

“That’s correct, Noctis… that is indeed, correct. But here you are now, alive… crowned king, no less,” he spat out those words like they tasted more horrid than anything he had ever put in his mouth.

As Noctis hissed and tried to catch a breath from the horrible stinging and burning along his spine, he tried to imagine what these men were after and why they were asking these kinds of questions. Did they hate the very idea that he was king? That he made it back alive after restoring the light and the dawn? Why were they doing this to him? It was getting to be too hard and too difficult to understand, so the king let go and let himself sit there as the pain swallowed his being.

Silently praying that they were done with this game.

But alas, the old man spoke once more, giving him one last question. “Noctis, one more, my darling, little king. Can you answer this for me: just how many people perished in the attack on Insomnia?”

Noctis’s wrists rubbed raw as he slid them along their cold, metal confines; his broken bones caught on the rickety edge of the cuff, causing him to whimper as the pain shot through his arm. “I… don’t know…”, he murmured.

“I couldn’t hear you, Majesty! Speak clearly!”

“I don’t know…!”, Noctis admitted through his scratchy, desperate breath. He could hear the old man’s raspy breaths close to his head now as he trailed his hand down the king’s raw, bloody back; he licked his fingers after he crawled them along Noctis’s open wounds.

He huffed a laugh. “No, of course you wouldn’t. You weren’t there, were you? You were off having the time of your life with your little friends. Your father sent you on a little trip while the rest of your people suffered and died.”

Noctis moaned in protest when the man yanked his hair down again, licking at the king’s quivering lips. “No… I never… m-meant…”

“Men, women and all kinds of children… perished, Noctis. They vanished from this world before their time, all at the mercy of destruction. The king knew of this impending danger, yet did nothing about it… except save you. His only son… you left and escaped that terrible fate when it was your destiny to fall along with your people.”

Noctis cried silent tears as he reluctantly accepted everything the old man had just uttered. He was telling the truth, the king knew that but… still, it hurt in his heart the way he was accusing both he and his father for their actions when they really had no choice.

After all, the dawn returned and everything was the way it should be. What more did they want?

“It matters not what is in the past regardless, Noctis. I will still make you understand that you are deplorable as king. Ascending the throne in a matter of easy, simple steps… no, it must be earned. I-, no, WE shall force you to earn your place as king.”

Noctis bit his lip as the old man released his head and petted him. Every part of his body was crying to be let go, to drop to the floor for relief from this awful pain. But there was no guarantee that they would any time soon.

“Rufus, bring me my knife.” He leaned in to kiss the king’s nape with his chapped, dry lips; whispering into him. “You shall belong to us, Noctis, this is your first step to becoming a true king in our eyes. You will face this with the heart of a prince, waiting and suffering countless, painful trials to rise up to the beauty of the privilege in ruling the people of Lucis.”

Noctis hung his shoulders, unwilling to fight anymore. He was so tired, so worn… and so humiliated. He didn’t have any idea where he was, who these men were or what they wanted. He just knew that they were going to break him.

And there would be no mercy for the last King of Lucis.

"Ah, yes,” the old man breathed, admiring his bloodstained, yellowed, rusty knife that he had carried with him throughout his years; hunting with it, cutting, and sometimes… murdering. “Now, Noctis- ah, Majesty. I shall mark you as ours, so everyone may see this permanent brand on you as belonging to the people of Lucis. Don’t move, Majesty, or I might cut something deeper than your flesh,” he chortled, wheezing harshly.

Noctis gulped hard, his heart beating out of his chest. He arched and let out a sharp gasp as the tip of the knife was pressed to his raw, bloody flesh. “Wait, p-please! Please, I c-can’t… I’m in s-so much pain... Please…”

His cries meant nothing to the old man as he ordered two of his men to hold the king’s back in place. “I know, Majesty, I know it hurts. But pain is a part of life and a part of growing into the man you shall become. Now come, Majesty, I shall mark you forever as our precious king…”

Noctis held nothing back as he screamed into the shadows of the growing night, howling at the excruciating pain from the old man carving something into his back; his flesh being cut open and expanding as the blood poured out from the slash, dripping down his shoulder blade.

“Majesty, hold still… I’ll start from the left shoulder and come in to your spine here…” He slowly dragged the knife along Noctis’s milky flesh, reveling in the agonizing screams from the king’s lips. When he finished there, he pulled it out, leaving Noctis to gasp and heave sharply for breath. “And then the right…”

“No! Oh gods… please!! No more!” His screams were leaving him ragged, his throat sore and scratchy from all of it. Tears fell from the blindfold, soaking his fuzzy cheeks as his strangled yelps filled the warehouse. The fear of being cut open while blinded, caused him to yell louder. The pain was unbearable.

“A king must endure pain, Majesty, if he is ever to understand others’ pain. You should know this,” the old man chided, cutting from his right shoulder to his spine, and then pulling out again. “Those are done… now, for the last part down the middle to complete it.” He struck right at the curve of Noctis’s spine below his neck, tearing the worst scream out of the king’s throat as he threw his raven head back and cried for the old man to stop.

“I’m b-begging you!!!”

“No, Majesty, I must finish. Hold still,” he demanded, drawing the blade hard and firm all the way down to the small of his back, trailing ever so slowly to cause more excruciating pain as his flesh was torn into and ripped open. The dark, red blood came shooting out, running down his whole back, down his ass checks and all along his legs. At last, he was done. He pulled the knife out with a satisfying rip, making sure to twist it slightly as he removed it so the king would gasp once more.

Finally relieved that it was all over, the king let all of his weight hang from the chain cuffs, shivering as he dropped his head and panted for precious breath. His back burned and stung horribly as the blood dripped and tickled his skin, running off of his wounded, raw flesh. He knew deep inside that this scar would never heal, it would remain in his flesh for as long as he lived. His tears fell constantly, the pain from the cuts left him almost unconscious.

“Now, you belong to the people of Lucis, Majesty. That mark shall never fade, and you will be theirs forever.” He kissed the king’s wet cheek, petting his raven strands. “Do you remember what you said to me? It is so very fresh in my memory and hasn’t left my head since. Those little words that meant so much to me…,” he sighed, caressing Noctis’s stubbled chin that dripped with tears. “Do you? How, you would rule as if your people held your life in their hands?”

Noctis froze with his mouth open, still trying to catch his breath. “T-the p-p-people…”

“Yes, Majesty, the people. Say it with me, just how you said it. ‘I will rule as if-”

The king struggled with his raspy breaths to make himself speak. “‘-the p-people held… m-my l-life in their… h-hands…’”

“And we do,” the old man finished for him, pressing one last, sloppy kiss under the king’s chin. “Beautiful, Majesty, beautiful…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Noct... you don't deserve this. But I hope you all are enjoying the story so far? I guess "enjoy" isn't really the word I wanna use... hmm... like the story? Can you take a guess just what the old man carved on Noctis's back?
> 
> So! Here is my ranting... I just wanted to say, I wish, like, super wish I could play as the older party in Lucis... omg, Square Enix... please give us an extra model change for the game!!! I love, love, love older Noctis!
> 
> He's adorable... that little beard of his is just the cutest. I think Noctis looks just like a cat at 30 years old :) Seriously, just give him cat ears!!! ("SQUEALS") And Gladio... oh, don't even get me started... he's a hunk! Sporting that man-bun, love it!!
> 
> Playing the ending again, a few reasons I believe GladNoct is canon are... 1. When Noctis meets up with them in Hammerhead after 10 years, Gladio is the first to approach him and the only one to touch him. And at the end of the cutscene, Noctis turns to look once more at Gladio before walking off. 2. No matter where I walk or how far, Gladio is always, always walking so close to Noctis. Plus, Prompto's pictures never lie! Caught a few with Gladio so close to Noctis's backside... ^0^ And finally, 3. In Insomnia, when you get closer to the Citadel, Gladio mentions about his heart slowing his legs down. To which Noct replies, "I can't make it without you." Um, if those aren't obvious reasons, then you can yell at me. Sorry, but I can't see anyone else but them together.
> 
> Coincidence? I think not, but if you do, you can scream at me :)
> 
> Also, Noctis is WAY too hesitant about wanting to marry Luna to really be in love with her. Don't get me wrong, I don't really care for Luna. She's a bit bland and the two barely know each other. 
> 
> Gladio is Noct's one and only love ;)
> 
> And... that's the end of my rant. Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Dead of Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter, and just let me warn you... it's so sad and painful. Prepare yourself for heartbreak, I'm sorry.

“...make a good point…”

“...believe it’s now time for that…”

“...his lover, huh?... not royalty at all…”

“...this is how it must be…”

“...I’m all fer it…”

The harsh whispering became jarring in Noctis’s head as he finally came to after all the torture he had endured. The blindfold chafed his face, slowly loosening on its own. He was aware that his hands weren’t bound at all, believing he could untie the blindfold so his sight would be returned to him. Something else felt off too… his left wrist had some kind of bandage on it. Perhaps these men weren’t as savage as he previously thought; actually splinting his broken bones for healing.

Still unable to properly move his left hand, he reached for the knot behind his head with his right. He tugged just a little before he heard that low, drawled tone again, making him release the knot.

“You take that blindfold off, and you’ll regret it, Majesty,” Rufus’s voice came out deep, serious and threatening. “Thought we taught you about obedience already.” Noctis’s body jolted, followed by a loud gasp as the man’s calloused hand traced the freshly carved mark on the king’s back. “My, boss really outdone himself this time, huh?”

The old man cleared his throat, the crusty sound made Noctis cringe. “I’m grateful, Rufus, but obedience comes later. This one has only just been exposed to the basics of monarchy. No rush, but I do think it’s time for another lesson, Majesty.”

“C-can you take the b-blindfold off…?”

The king’s feeble question earned a quick chuckle out of Rufus. “Majesty, where are yer manners?! Sir, I don’t think he’s learned nothin’!”

“You may be right, Rufus. However, he’s still just a prince on the inside, he’ll learn soon enough, won't you, Noctis?” His mouth was awfully close, too close for Noctis’s comfort when the old man’s spit flew at his face. “I think it’s time you learned my name, Majesty. Give me your hands.”

For some reason, his calm words soothed the king’s apprehension. They sounded genuine and kind, leading Noctis to put his hands in the old man's wrinkled, clammy palms. But what other choice did he have not to obey him?

The old man smoothed little circles over the tops of the king’s dry hands. “Now, Majesty, I knew your father, personally. He was a great man, and a great king. But all those who reach the kind of status he did on his own, must eventually fall from grace. And it was a beautiful fall, might I add. Did you know he surrendered to the empire? Cut down by the very man who swore his life to His Majesty?”

“My father… who…? Who k-killed him?” Noctis gulped, afraid of finally learning this knowledge after so long.

“I’m certain you knew him, Noctis… a man by the name of Titus Drautos? Yes, but I believe to them, he was known as General Glauca. Is this ringing any bells?”

“D-Drautos, he… no, but I… you, you’re lying…”

It couldn’t be true, the king refused to believe it. Why would Drautos, leader of the Kingsglaive, kill his own king? Noctis always regarded him as a loyal man; trustworthy, brave and warm. A true friend to the king. He recalled the last words he had spoken to the man. _“Drautos! He’s in your hands!”_ In his hands? Why had he said that specifically?

The old man chortled softly. “I assure you, Majesty, I would not lie to you. Your father, met his fate in the hands of his own. Does that not sound familiar?”

Noctis kept silent, fearing that maybe he really did understand why this man was telling him all this.

“Noctis,” his laugh intensified. “You and your father are not so different. Didn’t I say that a king must be willing to play into the hands of his people? You confirmed this for us, Majesty.”

By the gods, he was right. Noctis shifted uncomfortably at the uncanny coincidence. “You still haven’t told me who you are,” the king stated with a huff, finding the confidence to speak to this man at last. “You knew my father, yet you won’t tell me how.”

“Majesty, patience! Have I not made that very clear?”, the old man purred, sliding his hand underneath Noctis’s fuzzy chin. “I was your father’s private advisor, Noctis. I am Jonas Sumner, similar to your own little Ignis Scientia?”

“No, that was… Cor’s duty…?”

“Oh, silly boy! Cor Leonis could never rise up to hold the prestigious position I was honored with. Your father shared everything with me,” he said, his tone turning more and more mockingly playful. “Even his bed sometimes.”

Noctis’s jaw dropped. “What…?! No, you have to be lying! My father-”

“-is just like you, Majesty. Tell me, is there any difference between my own story and the love you hold for your shield? Duty outweighs love, Noctis, especially when it comes to kings. But you manage to somehow balance all three!” He seemed all too eager to tell the king this news.

“All… t-three?”

“Yes! Love, duty, and the precious life of the blood royal nestled so warmly within your little womb. After all, the child shall be next in line for the throne; king or queen, however it shall be born.”

This conversation was beginning to take a strange turn, a place Noctis wanted to avoid discussing. Why did he bring up his unborn baby? Of what importance was the child to him? It seemed like he just couldn’t leave any part of Noctis alone. Nothing from his mind, to his heart and now his womb. But it burned in the king’s head the exact reason why he brought it up.

“But,” the old man broke mid-thought, circling the king as he clicked his tongue. “The child is not of true royal blood… is it?”

“O-of course it is, what are you…?”

“Oh no, no it isn’t, Majesty. Your lover, Gladiolus Amicitia is not a royal, yet the king still conceived of his seed.”

His heart dropped, his thoughts immediately returning to Gladio and the night their baby was conceived. If this was some ploy to make Noctis feel guilt or shame for whatever wrong he did as king, well… it was working. He loved Gladio, why should there be any doubt as to whether the heir to the throne was fully royal in blood?

Wasn’t it the heart of a king that truly counted for everything?

“And that is where you and your father are different, Noctis. You were born a full-blooded royal, and you were permitted to live and take your father’s place on the throne. But poor King Regis... “ He stroked Noctis’s cheek with the back of his hand, the contact of his dryness and the king’s beard stubble created a scraping noise. “He lost his only son… don’t you think it only fitting that you continue to follow in your father’s footsteps?”

It all became clear then as Noctis’s lips parted for words to protest, but all that came out was a tiny squeak. He backed away, only to bump into Rufus’s hairy, naked chest; those broad, rough arms cuddling the king’s shivering form.

“I don’t think he wants it, sir. He’s shakin’ sumthin’ awful,” he joked, nuzzling Noctis’s raven locks. “Do ya, baby?”

Noctis squirmed, heaving nervous breaths as the man’s large legs overlapped his, helping to spread them open. “No, no! I won’t let you take this from me!” His resistance became more violent upon hearing this disgusting man call him exactly what Gladio had always lovingly called him. “Release me! Don’t do this!”

The old man pulled out his knife again, even more bloody from slicing through Noctis’s pale flesh as it shone in the soft glow of the full moon, gleaming down into a crooked hole in the roof. “Ah, Majesty… if a king is born to ascend the throne, mustn’t he be a true royal by blood? For that is how it has always been decreed, and now, sadly…” He nudged himself in between Noctis’s and Rufus’s legs, reaching down for the king’s pink entrance to pry him open. “This little one must die to preserve the purity of the royal line.”

The hairs on Rufus’s chest pecked at Noctis’s raw cuts down his back, causing him to arch up away from this villain. “NO! NO, STOP!! Y-you don’t have to do this!!”, he cried, lurching forward to push the old man’s hands away when Rufus locked his arms with the king’s and pulled them back. “Please! Please, stop! It doesn’t deserve this!!”

“But, Majesty, I believe YOU deserve it. You too, should know the pain and agony of losing a child. Just as your father understood when he learned of your fate at the tender, innocent age of five. He gave you up and so you shall do the same… for the good of your people, Majesty.”

“Don’t fret, Majesty,” Rufus cooed over the king’s desperate crying. “I’m here, just relax. It’ll be over soon.” He hugged him tighter as Noctis frantically tried to push himself up off the musty, wet floor.

“Don’t… don’t, please! I’ll do anything!” He grimaced, releasing a terrified scream as he felt the pressure and burning of the first cut into his opening. He weakly tried to close his legs, but Rufus held them and spread them even further as the old man worked for the baby.

“Yes, Majesty, that’s just the kind of attitude a king should have! Pleasing the people… you are learning fast indeed,” the old man praised Noctis, cutting up into his soft, pink flesh. He rotated the knife to create a kind of moat for the blood to pool just inside of his cervix, causing the king to scream and howl even louder. “Do let me know when you begin to feel it… that clenching, tightening in your gut, signalling the end of your baby’s life, Majesty. I’ll stop then.”

Noctis threw his head to the side against the man’s furry chest, burying his face deep into his muscles as the pain intensified below him. All the strength he thought returned to him never was, his body so weak and tired. He was afraid now. This baby meant everything to him, and losing it only served to cause him more fear and grief.

Suddenly, he felt it. That agonizing clenching and contracting of his vaginal muscles pushing out what was left of his baby. He tucked his chin to his chest and gripped at Rufus’s arms for support, whimpering as his tears fell faster. “S-stop… stop! It’s… oh gods!…” All the pain and brutal torture his body had endured in just two days was all it could take. His body gave in, weak and trembling as the fetus was carried unto the passing of blood.

The old man carefully pulled the knife out of him, cutting the lip of his opening as Noctis bucked at the horrible pain. “There we are, Noctis... here it comes,” he mused, watching with a wicked smirk as the pale fetal fluid and dark river of blood slipped out of the king. “A king must be willing to sacrifice those he holds dear… just as your father did.”

“Gladio!” Noctis howled, arching up as his body achingly emptied that little life he and Gladio loved since they knew it existed. “Gladio, I’m s-sorry… I’m so s-sorry…” He let himself fall back on Rufus’s hairy torso, desperate for anything warm to comfort the sorrow in his being.

“Noctis,” the old man spoke, reaching down to coat his hand in the king’s miscarried pool of blood. He smeared it on Noctis’s sweaty cheek, earning a fearful gasp from the king. Running his hand down to his quivering stubbled chin, he cupped it and pressed a kiss to it. “It’s done now… and I shall be sure that you conceive of true royal blood in the future.”

“‘Gladio’, huh? That's yer lover’s name? Well, I’ll make it so I’m the only man you cry fer, Majesty,” Rufus kissed the king’s bloody cheek, nuzzling into the side of his face. “He don’t deserve you… yer much too beautiful fer him.”

Feeling he was a complete utter failure, Noctis let go and cried for as long as his exhausted body could take. He had one duty: promising his baby that he would protect it through all of this… but he failed. The baby was gone, dead in a brutal act of cruel torture and Noctis would never forgive himself.

All he wanted now was to be held in the safe, broad arms of his beloved forever.

》》》》》

The road laid out ahead of him so very dark and uncertain as he drove out of the city limits, passing through the toll gate without any disruption. His large hands gripped the steering wheel with so much force that it creaked whenever he moved them.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been driving so late at night. It must have been at least 15 years... Since the dawn returned, there had been no more threats of daemons prowling about near civilian territory. There was still the occasional dangerous varmint, lurking around the roads in search of food, but the hunters quelled that problem quite quickly.

His mind was so entirely focused on his Noctis that he wasn’t paying very close attention to his speedometer: clocking in at over 70 mph. But where was he going? What did he think he was going to find? Surely kings don’t just disappear on a whim like that, leaving so much responsibility behind and forgotten. Noctis certainly wasn’t one of those people to do such a wild and crazy thing, especially in his delicate condition.

Despite all the fuzzy doubts in his head, he kept driving; rolling endlessly down road after road, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the black and yellow painted asphalt. Perhaps he just needed some time to think, some time alone to ponder what his next action would be and how he would concoct any kind of plan for finding his pregnant king.

In reality, if Gladio was afraid of anything, this was it: losing Noctis forever, if it was even possible. The shield knew his lover would never run away or try to escape his duties. Maybe when he was just a spry, young prince, but not now; not when he was a full-grown man, rising up to the burdens and lifelong challenges of becoming king. That just wasn’t Noctis…

Then he wondered if maybe it was himself. Maybe Noctis left because of Gladio, something he did, or something he said… but, Noctis would have told him, right? They were the best of friends, sworn as king and shield, forever bonded as lovers. When he thought hard, he remembered Noctis never hid or kept secrets from his shield, ever, coming right out and telling Gladio how he felt about him with their first brief kiss before his 19th birthday.

The one thought that kept bumping into Gladio’s brain over and over again, was the fact that last night, he could’ve scooped him up and carried him into bed. He was so godsdamn exhausted, barely conscious enough to sign important paperwork. The past four months weren’t at all the easiest for the new king either, dealing with all the discomforts and royal pains that came with being pregnant while ruling a kingdom.

Gladio offered to help him so many times in so many ways, each time rejected by a chaste kiss on the cheek as Noctis assured him he would be just fine. His constant exhaustion also played a part in keeping their sex life to a minimum, Noctis falling right onto the bed fully dressed in his suit and cape without a single word to his lover, slipping immediately into a deep slumber that wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy his need for rest.

Then again, his pregnancy sometimes had the opposite effect; when he had enough energy left for such a rigorous activity. Gladio would sometimes wake up to a very cuddly and vocal, completely naked Noctis, who would climb over his taut muscles like a cliff face and leave tiny, sloppy kisses all over his torso before the shield had the audacity to hungrily flip his king onto his back and make wild, passionate love to him. He knew it was the baby, the doctor had said pregnancy caused incredibly strong hormones to arise out of nowhere; leading to their multiple morning romps.

 But gods, did Gladio ever love those mornings… the way Noctis would murmur his name as his soft lips and fuzzy chin licked and nuzzled at his firm, broad abs, his thin hands would roam all over his nether region, grasping his hardening member and slowly siphoning him until the larger man moaned loud enough for the king to work him somewhere else. The way he pressed his pale, swelling belly up against his lover’s tan, muscular form as their hot, sweaty, wet sex slumped together in the gorge of Noctis’s legs spreading ever so slowly over Gladio’s waist…

Why did it have to be Noctis who was missing...?

A bit entranced by the pale glow of streetlights zooming passed his windows, he slowed his speed to a steady 55 mph as those luscious, intimate memories of his beloved Noctis drifted by in his troubled mind. Wherever the king was, Gladio would find him, even if he had to risk his life to do so. That had been his vow to him since the very beginning.

He turned the radio on, hoping to listen to some music to calm his nerves when an important broadcast interrupted all stations. A female announcer spread the news about the mysterious crisis slowly forming in the kingdom of Lucis.

_“We interrupt all programs to bring you this breaking news: Noctis Lucis Caelum, the CXIV king of Lucis, has reportedly gone missing. Various sources have been pouring in their own take on this incident as it unfolds. Truth or speculation, each rumor sheds at least some light on this growing crisis as the Crown City has been restless in insurmountable panic. Witnesses to the first conclusions of the king’s sudden disappearance, a few members of the royal council have agreed to share their speculations regarding this harrowing story:”_

A recording of a man’s deep, gurgly voice came through the speakers. _“This is truly tragic. The royal council is looking into His Majesty’s disappearance with great concern for his welfare, and the welfare of his people. We have sent a few of our divisions out into the city and beyond on a search and rescue operation in the event that our king may have been kidnapped or murdered. Our entire future depends on locating His Majesty as quickly as possible, hoping we can reach him and place him back on the throne where he belongs.”_

The woman's voice took over again. _“What a shocking revelation! The king? Murdered? It’s unthinkable, but many in Insomnia actually believe it to be true. We have reports of a group of families who have set up an entire funeral session for His Majesty as mourners poured in from all corners of the city to pay respects to their last reigning monarch.”_

Gladio scoffed, regarding this whole story as ridiculous. “What do they know? It’s just all damn, stupid gossip.”

The program continued. _“-umner has taken the liberty of speaking on behalf of His Majesty’s ‘act of carelessness’.”_

“‘Act of carelessness’?! What the hell?!”, Gladio slammed both hands on the steering wheel, pushing the gas pedal all the way to the floor for a second before releasing it in a huff of angry tension. “Bastards… they have no clue.”

Then, a grainy, raspy tone of an older man overpowered the static radio waves. _“What is a ‘monarch?’ What does it mean to rule an entire nation such as our great kingdom of Lucis, fortified by the gods and blessed by the Six for over 2,000 years? I have no doubt in my mind that His Majesty simply grew bored with his duty, leaving us to pick up the pieces of his brief, deplorable reign over our precious Crown City. I have been told that our king’s own shield has also not been seen as of late, leading us to believe that perhaps His Majesty skipped out of town with his lover and is on his way somewhere beyond our capacity to find them.”_

He spoke with an air of arrogance, a prideful sneer that coddled every word. _“But we mustn't lose hope just yet, my dear Insomnians. It truly broke my heart to learn of our late King Regis’s passing on the eve of the treaty signing, and I do not wish the same fate to befall his son. A reminder to pray for our king is a noble calling, his life and the life of his unborn child, the future of Lucis, depend on the people’s willingness to support the king in his time of need.”_

_“Yes, indeed. A king must be responsible for his own actions: be it intentional or a complete mistake, a king must pay the consequences. This unfortunate circumstance is just one example of the price that comes from a stubborn and careless monarch. Nevertheless, bless you, King Noctis. I pray… we all pray for your safe return.”_

Gladio flicked the radio knob off with such force that the knob broke and rolled below his feet. “Gods damn you, bastard. Whoever you are, you son of a bitch, I can’t believe you’ve actually got the balls to talk about Noct that way… you contradicted yourself through the whole thing, asshole.”

He turned sharply into the Coernix station, finally pulling over in Duscae to fuel up, and to gather his jumbled thoughts into a reasonable plan if he was ever going to find his beloved.

》》》》》

It took Noctis a few moments to gain enough strength to struggle against Rufus’s embrace once more, sickened and utterly terrified by the sticky, bloody mess that coated his genitals. After what seemed like an eternity, Rufus relented and picked his legs out of the king’s pale arches, earning an exhausted groan from his dry, raspy mouth.

“Majesty,” the golden-eyed man whispered into his nape. “Yer so pretty…” His hot, coarse tongue lapped around the sides of his neck, biting into his left shoulder. Noctis whined as he broke the skin, leaving a deep, bleeding hickey to scab up later. Once more, the man’s rude, roaming hands found their way to his growing breasts, kneading and fondling them roughly. “I love these things… Majesty… you’re so gorgeous…”

His sulking, hot breath made the king shiver and gasp as his rough kneading intensified. Noctis frantically tried to pull his hands off of his sore mounds, but the splint on his left hand crippled any attempt and he barely had any strength to pry him off with the other one. “...stop… please, s-stop…”

Rufus chuckled, inching his clothed, throbbing member closer to the king’s backside as he licked the bloody side of his face. “But, Majesty, I can’t! When I see something so beautiful, I just can’t keep my hands to myself!”

“Rufus,” the old man’s prosecuting tone made Rufus tear away from the king, only snaking his arms underneath Noctis’s and crossing over his breast. “He needs rest now, not sex. That will all come in due time, mind you.”

“Right,” Rufus laughed again, the deep grumble of his chuckle echoed in the king’s ears as the man pressed one last kiss to his cheek before pulling his arms away “Soon, Majesty, very soon..”

“Here.” The old man handed something small and firm to Rufus, whispering harshly into his ear something about a clasp?

Having his vision stripped from him for quite a few hours now gave Noctis a more powerful sense of hearing. Whether it was a curse or a blessing, he couldn’t really name one or the other. It all depended on whatever hellish situation he found himself in.

Like right now as Rufus grabbed the cloth blindfold and tied something hard and plastic onto the knot, but not before he pulled it tight against Noctis’s beautiful, sapphire eyes, earning another groan from his lips as he protested weakly. “No, what are you doing…? What are you doing…?!” His right hand flew up to halt Rufus’s tying, but the old man’s ratty palms clapped it back down to his side.

“Majesty, as I’ve told you before… blinded must the gaze of a king be if he is to ever heed the desperate cries of his people. That blindfold shall become like a second skin to you, willing you to listen well to your future master,” he purred that last word, gently stroking the king’s arm. “That clasp will keep it on tight and secure, your own darkness being your only comfort as you learn with the heart and mind of a prince: serving the one who rules over you before your time comes.”

“M-master? I… don’t understand…” His voice came out small and feeble, sounding like it tumbled out of the mouth of a helpless child. He yelped as the old man pulled his hair back again, straining his neck.

“You shall find out in good time, Majesty… I promise. Now, Rufus, bring our little king into the cozy room I prepared for him.” With a swish of his cloak, the old man trudged forward and pried a heavy, wooden door open; its horrible creaking made Noctis wince and grit his teeth as Rufus picked him up bridal style and strutted over in that same direction. The raven-haired king just lay there in the man’s strong arms, limp and tired; his heart, broken into a million pieces.

“Watch your step now,” the old man called out before Rufus stepped over a large drop to the floor of the room. “I’m certain you’ll be quite comfortable in here, Majesty. Make yourself at home, the bed has been made to provide the ultimate comfort.”

Noctis was expecting to be thrown onto something hard and unbearably uncomfortable, bracing himself for that impact. But let out a quick relieved sigh as he was placed mighty gently on a plush comforter, his body finally able to rest softly.

Until Rufus crawled over him, his oppressive hot body and massive weight looming over the king’s smaller, weak, and broken form. Noctis instinctively pushed on his hairy torso to keep him away when the man leaned further down to lightly kiss his chapped lips. He moaned, squirming slightly underneath him before the man pulled away and ghosted his calloused thumb over those soft lips he had just caressed. “Majesty, I cannot wait till yer mine… till I’ve got you and I can do anything to you that I damn, well please!”

“Rufus!” The old man’s harsh call once again halted Rufus’s advances, similar to a mutt and his master, Noctis thought. Hence, his name…

Rufus pulled away and stepped off the bed, leaving Noctis literally in the dark: both in the room and behind the blindfold. As he heard their footsteps move away from where he lay, Noctis began to panic again. “What are you going to do?”

If only he could see the twin smirks plaster themselves on both of the men’s faces… “Well, Majesty. I believe you deserve some rest now, after having suffered that dreadful miscarriage. You must recover!”

“Yeah,” Rufus added, “so you git to stay in this room all by yer lonesome until you feel better. How’s that?”

“N-no, wait! Wait, please, I-” The king propped himself up on his elbows, wishing he could rip this blindfold off. “Please, wait!!”

“A few days, Majesty, we’ll be back. Rest well now!” The old man left.

“Wait, please! Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me!!” Noctis’s pleas were quickly followed by desperate crying as Rufus grinned at the sobbing king: naked and helpless, all alone in a room no would bother them in if he decided to take Noctis here and now.

“Don’t worry yer pretty, little head, Majesty. I’ll be back, and when I git back… well, yer gonna have the time of yer life. You’ll be all mine, I’ll make damn sure of that,” he called over the king’s cries, lust and a savage hunger ever present in his deep tone. “Majesty, yer so godsdamn beautiful! Owwww!” He howled, gaining his own ultimate pleasure just watching the naked king beg him not to go. “But you’ve gotta stick to the plan just as much as I do, so rest easy and drink plenty of water. It’s in one of the corners, beautiful man, you’ll find it.”

Then he was gone, his presence vanishing behind the heavy, screeching door. They left Noctis to his own darkness, crying and still calling out for them not to leave him. “Please… please, don’t leave me!! I can’t see! Don't leave me...!” He curled in on himself, shivering from the immense fear that filled his aching heart as he cried alone, his world dark and unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only the beginning... It's going to get much, much worse... little hope for our two lovers right now... and the baby... poor Noct and Gladio...
> 
> Let me know how you feel about this :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. King's Cradle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I wanna say I made myself cry in this one... and you'll see what I mean very shortly.
> 
> Starting to gather all of my thoughts for this story and where I'm going with it at last! Already have the ending in mind :) But it won't be for a while yet...
> 
> Here you are...

Time seemed meaningless in the dark. Like a cold shoulder, it abandoned him and left him without any promise of life again. All it did was create a sort of timer he kept for himself, not even an hour since his miscarriage and the agonizing cramps and back pain were stronger than before. The cuts burned deep as he felt below himself and realized that his blood still leaked from his opening, whimpering at the sensation of death coating his hand in a dark crimson.

 

 He timed the cramps, trying to steady his breaths through each one as it came. It mentally tired him out so quickly, the strong contracting of his pelvic muscles and his uterus causing him sharp, stabbing pain as his back ached and throbbed. His tears slid so slowly from under the curtain covering his eyes, lingering on his cheeks as they quivered in his beard stubble before slipping down his jawbone. With his hearing becoming heightened since the blindfold was tied on, he jumped and jolted at every little sound that squeaked or creaked in the rotting wood.

 

 Nothing helped to soothe his pain or his fears. He even tried humming a tune as he endured the pain of another cramp, but all it did was serve to make him apprehensive for the next one. The noises in the room continued to tease his sensitive hearing, gripping at the plush comforter as he buried his head into it and pleaded for them to stop. To him, this was worse than being surrounded by all those men, at least he could talk to them or be heard as he vocalized the pain he suffered with shouts and screams.

 

 But it was better than unknown silence, noises coming from nowhere that assaulted his eardrums, and the growing shadows that clouded his vision. He knew that at any moment when he was asleep or vulnerable, there could be something or someone waiting to get their filthy hands on his body. So he forced himself to stay awake and alert to all sounds, trying to determine exactly what they were and where they came from for the sole purpose of preparing himself for any invisible intruders.

 

 Knowledge was power as some said, and Noctis could at least make an attempt to understand his situation, regardless of how hopeless it was. If it helped, he wouldn’t fight the urge to be curious.

 

 As time went on, he found his cramps only increased, the blood flowing faster out of him. He soon felt the weakness in his muscles and the woozy feeling in his head as he bled out freely. He was afraid he might pass out and never wake up if this continued. But maybe that was their plan: to kill him in silence, so no one would know exactly what happened to their king. That frightened him, and the thought of dying alone without Gladio by his side left him feeling completely hopeless and useless again.

 

 He palmed his lower back firmly as the pain from the cramps rose into his hips as well. Wincing and gritting his teeth, he tried to breathe through it, but it only became harder and harder. It felt like this pain would never end, until it finally did when something mildly bulky and squishy slid out of his opening, the pressure seizing instantly.

 

 He breathed a grateful sigh as the pain slowly subsided and the blood tapered off, leaving his sore body to rest once more. But as soon as he shifted to lie down on the plush comforter, his leg bumped something soft but firm. He reached down by his leg and felt what he believed to be a clot of blood until his palm gripped a tiny head. He froze, holding his breath as he slowly traced the rest of the object.

 

 Neck. Back. Arms. Hands. Fingers, such tiny fingers… Legs, curled up into an L shape and the tiniest little toes he ever felt. Suddenly, it hit him hard. He realized what this thing was as he carefully and gently picked it up and cuddled it close.

 

 It was his baby. The tiny, limp fetus was pushed from its warm, cozy little nest and dropped lifeless into this cold, unforgiving hell of a world. He held it to his face and nuzzled it, crying softly as all the promises of this little life vanished the moment that unbearable pain overtook his being. His breaths hitched as his tears soaked through the blindfold and his stubble, his chest heaving and leaving him ragged. Everything precious that he held onto was gone. Gone, forever.

 

 He believed this was truly to be his end.

 

 He held his baby tenderly between his swelling breasts, lifting his head as he said his final goodbye. The room felt so strangely warm to him… enveloping ‘mother’ and baby in a calming, comforting heat that lingered in Noctis’s palms; helping the king to gently cradle his stillborn child. “I’m sorry, little one… I’m so sorry… I hope you know that, your daddy and I loved you since the moment we knew you were sleeping within me… I’m so sorry I c-couldn’t save you…,” his words came out hushed as he was too overcome by his grief to even speak clearly. “I’ll always love you, my baby…,” he murmured, leaning in ever closer to his baby’s lifeless form.

 

 Trembling, the king slowly and carefully rose from the bed and searched all the corners of the room for the water that was left for him, finding it in the very last corner. He knelt before the bowl of water, kneeling down to wash his baby from his latent blood and mucus in the refreshing coolness, tears slipping from under the cloth on his eyes. As he stood once more to walk back to the bed, he felt a chill breeze flow over his shoulders and turned toward it, wondering if it might be a window.

 

 Sure enough, but it wasn't a window so much as only a gaping hole in the plank wall. Still, he let out a shaky sigh of gratitude, feeling the strength he needed to finally let go of this pain as he breathed in the salty sea air. In this moment, he pressed one last kiss to his baby’s soft, tiny head and upon hearing the ring of freedom from the lips of the ocean, he held his baby out of the crack in the wall.

 

 “I love you s-so much… I’ll hold you in m-my heart forever… goodbye, my beautiful b-baby…”

 

 He let go, giving his child away to the comforting roar of the eternal, blue expanse of the sea. 

 

 He stumbled a return to the plush bed and sat there in the silence. The darkness haunting his eyes had indeed become like a second skin, leaving him with no choice but to give in to the longing sleep beckoning his spirit to rest now. He laid down and released his body to the arms of slumber.

  
  


》》》》》

 

 “Did you hear that stupid, fucking broadcast, Iggy?”, Prompto shouted angrily, stepping into Ignis’s room. “‘Act of carelessness’?! What the hell do they think Noct did?!”

 

 “I certainly did hear it, Prompto, and I hope they understand just what kind of propaganda they’re spreading when they speak of the king that way,” the advisor added, offering the blonde a chair beside him at his desk. “Have you spoken to or seen Gladio?”

 

 “Oh no, now Gladio’s missing?! Who’s next?” He slunk down into the cushioned chair and rubbed over his face. “No sign of Noct then… great, just great.”

 

 The advisor patted his knee, giving him a smile. “It’s not quite like that. I believe Gladio left to have some time to himself. Try to imagine how he feels about Noct’s disappearance.”

 

 “I can’t even imagine how I feel,” he sighed. “What’s our plan, Iggy? What can we do?”

 

 “Well, I had a few ideas, most of them ending up a dead end or tossed in the garbage. However, there is one in particular that keeps me wondering if... maybe this entire thing is my fault…” His voice fell to a murmur.

 

 “What? No, Iggy, how could this be your fault? Noct loves you! And he’d never blame you for anything,” the blonde attempted encouragement, looking right into Ignis’s scarred eyes. “I don't know where Noct went, but you can be sure he made the decision himself!”

 

 Ignis hummed a laugh. “I appreciate your kind words, Prompto, but if I had just been diligent enough to check on him last night… then perhaps we wouldn’t be here now.”

 

 Prompto fidgeted with his hands. “What do you mean, Iggy? What happened last night?”

 

 “I,” he let out a long sigh. “I had planned to check on Noct to make sure he made it to bed last night, knowing how much work he had piled on his shoulders. He was so exhausted, Prompto, so tired… I was on my way to his study when something else came up and I had to leave.”

 

 “So, you never saw him last night then because you had something to take care of? Well, Iggy, that’s no reason to blame yourself, you had just as much work as Noct did. I’m sure you were pretty sleepy too,” he reasoned, picking up a fountain pen from the desk and doodling a heart on his hand. “It’s not your fault.”

 

 Ignis knew that what the blonde was saying held some truth, but he had been the one to send Councilman Sumner to check on the king in his stead. It gnawed at him fiercely, wondering if Sumner might be their prime suspect after all. But how could he be sure?

 

 Maybe no one had seen the king last night, so it could all just be a coincidence. He didn’t want to just jump to conclusions, he had to be absolutely, positively accurate in his assumption.

 

 If not, who knows what kind of serious repercussions they might face… he wished now that he had just ignored everything else and gone to see Noct.

 

 “You may be right, Prompto, but I must know for sure. You know me.” He nodded this knowledge with a smile at the blonde, who grinned at this playful side of Ignis that always eased such tensions. “I pray Noct is safe… I pray so hard that he’s alright…”

 

 “Yeah, me too, Iggy,” Prompto said, drawing another heart on Ignis’s hand this time. “The baby too…”

 

 “You know, I’ve tried calling Gladio three times in the past two hours with no answer. I worry that maybe he’s too distraught about Noct to pick up,” Ignis said sadly. “I wish I knew where he was.”

 

 Prompto pulled out his phone and typed in Gladio’s number. “I could try calling him. He might answer now.”

 

 “And what makes you think he’d change his mind about answering your call?” He raised a brow, flashing a smirk at his younger friend.

 

 “I’m not bossy,” Prompto teased, holding the phone to his ear as it rang.

 

 The advisor chuckled. “Touche.”

  
  


 》》》》》

 

 Gladio laid out on the fold out bed of the rented caravan, his face buried in one of his favorite novels as he slept fitfully. He had been awake almost all day and all night, exhaustion hitting him like a blizzara spell. Part of the man couldn’t believe this was happening. Another part… just wanted it to be over already, longing to feel Noctis in his arms again.

 

 Lying on the hard mattress with the knowledge that Noctis was missing made the night feel even colder than just being alone. The loneliness burned a hole through his aching heart, just a few hours earlier thrusting his broadsword through a tree trunk repeatedly out of anger. Sweaty and having enough of tiring himself out, Gladio reluctantly gave up and left for the caravan; his stomach void of any nutrition.

 

 He heaved himself up with a groan, shuffling toward the tiny kitchen to prepare some Cup Noodles when his phone went off, ringing incessantly. He lazily swiped it up and answered, Prompto’s voice coming through loud and clear.

 

_ “Gladio?” _

 

 “Yeah,” he mumbled.

 

_ “Hey, big guy. Um, Iggy wanted to know how come you ignored his calls. He tried three times.” _

 

__ Gladio rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “I dunno… just wanted some quiet time. Is there anything wrong with that?”

 

_ “Well, he was worried about you and-” _

 

_  “Gladio, where are you?”  _ Ignis’s voice interrupted Prompto's as he took the phone from him.

 

 “Look, guys. I’m okay, I’m just aggravated and tired… I’ve been out all day searching.”

 

 Ignis continued to interrogate him.  _ “Are you alright, Gladio? Might I ask where you are now?” _

 

 “In Duscae. The Coernix station… I rented out the caravan for tonight,” he answered.

 

_ “Gladio,”  _ the advisor paused to take a deep breath.  _ “I know how distraught you must feel over Noct’s disappearance, but you mustn’t lose yourself, please. We need you to be at your best if we’re ever going to find him.” _

 

 “Iggy,” the shield’s tone became hushed. “I need some time to think this through…”

 

_ “I’m afraid we don’t have much time if what I’m thinking has happened is correct,”  _ he explained, keeping his same, calm and collected tone.  _ “We need you here, with us. Could you come back in the morning?” _

 

 Gladio remained quiet, a lump forming in his throat as this conversation began to frustrate him.

 

_ “Gladio. We can’t do this without you, you know that. Noct needs you.” _

 

 “I know, Iggy!” His shout faltered as stray tears fell from his eyes. “He was so godsdamn exhausted last night, and I’m constantly beating myself up about the fact that I shouldn’t have left him alone! Why didn’t I just carry him to bed, Iggy…? Why, dammit?!”

 

 He could hear Prompto beginning to cry through the static of the phone. Ignis’s clear-cut voice brought the shield out of his sorrow for a moment.  _ “Gladio, I’ve been sitting here with Prompto for a few hours, blaming myself just as you are. But this isn’t either one of our faults, you understand. I believe someone is to blame, but I must know for sure. And I need you here before I continue with my assumptions… please?” _

 

 Gladio shook off his sobs and swallowed the lump, clearing his throat to speak sensibly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there tomorrow, don’t worry.”

 

_ “Good,”  _ Ignis sighed with relief.  _ “Be careful, Gladio, and sleep well.” _

 

 Gladio sensed that his friend was smiling just by the way he spoke… and it made him grin at the kind and considerate concerns of his friends. “Iggy?”

 

_ “Yes?” _

 

__ “What do you think happened to Noct?”

 

_ “...I don’t know, Gladio. Honestly, I don’t. But that’s why I need you by my side right now, I need your help.” _

 

 “Yeah, I’ll be there, Iggy. Promise, alright?”

 

 Ignis chuckled lightheartedly.  _ “I’m counting on you, Gladio. Noct needs all of us.” _

 

__ Gladio hummed in response. “I know he does.” He hung up, tossing the phone back over onto the bed as he strode over toward the door and walked out into the breezy night air. He breathed it in, relishing the warmness of the evening on his skin.

 

 This was not going to be easy at all. Finding Noct would be like picking a perfect grain of sand out of the vast sea. The weight of this realization hung over Gladio as a heavy ball and chain, clinging to him and holding him down. But he was resilient, refusing to let anything stand in his way.

 

 His beloved Noctis was out there somewhere, waiting for him to come. Gladio had sworn to remain at his side forever, loving him and keeping him from harm. He wasn’t about to give up the one person he loved more than anything in this world.

 

 “Noct,” Gladio spoke into the dimly lit parking lot, the stars shining faintly above his head. “I love you, baby, and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to bring you home. It’s you and me forever, Noct, don’t you ever doubt me.”

 

 He clenched his hand into a fist, gazing out into the distance where the pink, pale moon began to set behind the hills. Suddenly, among the numerous hills, he saw what looked like a convoy of headlights headed toward Cleigne. He thought it seemed a bit strange, since with the return of the dawn, people hadn’t been grouping together like that.

 

 He peered a little closer, noticing multiple men crowding around one of the vans with rifles in their arms. That definitely seemed out of the ordinary, making Gladio feel very uneasy at the sight of them as they drove off into the darkness of the night.

  
  


 》》》》》

 

 “Prompto, where are you going?”

 

 Prompto was quickly gathering up his phone and his Kingsglaive jacket, ready to head out the door. “I’m gonna go see Gladio. I think the big guy should have someone with him, Iggy.”

 

 Ignis straightened the papers on his desk, watching as the blonde frantically returned the fountain pen he was using very carefully into its respective cup. “Why do you think so? He’ll be here tomorrow,” he said, trying to convince his younger friend to stay. He didn’t really want to be alone tonight.

 

 Prompto shrugged. “I dunno, I just… I wanna be there for him. Comfort him, maybe. He sounded so sad on the phone…”

 

 “He’s in a hard position, Prompto. It’s understandable how desolate he must feel without Noct, but…” He walked over and placed his hand on Prompto’s shoulder, sighing as he dropped his head. “I confess I’m beginning to feel exactly the same… I feel lost without knowing what’s happened to him… and I wish I could go with you… I wish I could be at Noct’s side.”

 

 Prompto took and held Ignis’s hand in both of his. “Iggy…”

 

 “There’s so much work to be done… and look at us: we’re already losing heart…”

 

 His hand shook in Prompto’s, the blonde holding it close and tight. “No, Iggy. We’re not gonna lose it now. Noct has only been missing for a day, and we’ve barely started looking! He’s gonna be fine, okay?”

 

 “Our king is missing, Prompto…”

 

 “Iggy.”

 

 The stern turn of Prompto’s tone earned Ignis’s full attention, causing him to lift his head as if his jade eyes were looking right into his bright blues.

 

 “We’re  **fine** , alright? You’ve got some things to prepare for tomorrow, so you stay and get some good sleep, okay? I’m gonna go see Gladio and bring him back in the morning.” He gave Ignis’s hand one last reaffirming shake before pushing it to his friend’s chest and letting go.

 

 Ignis smiled at him after that, listening as the blonde’s hasty boots made for the door. “Call me when you get there, Prompto?”

 

 He glanced back and smiled, his cheeks full as they nudged his eyes upward. “Sure, Igster, sure. I’ll tell the big guy we’re gonna start without him if he doesn’t hurry up.”

 

 Ignis laughed. “You’ll be in for a world of hurt if you do that.”

 

 Prompto chuckled in response, patting the side of the door. “I can take him. Remember, I’m a lot tougher than I used to be.”

 

 “Indeed you are, Prompto,” he finished as Prompto strode out the door. “And we’re all the better off for it.” 

 

 As soon as the door closed behind the blonde, Ignis took a few moments to gather his thoughts, pacing about his room with Noctis’s carbuncle figurine in his hands. His fingers traced along the form of the plastic creature, a smile stretching across his features.

 

 “We’ll find you, Noct. I promise we will… I’ll do everything in my power to keep you and Gladio together,” he murmured close to the toy. “I vowed to protect you, my brother, and I shall do so until my dying breath.”

  
  


 》》》》》

 

 Laughter. Little shouts and tiny yelps of happiness. The sound of smaller feet, running and jumping and playing like the light of day would last eternally. A baby crying… it tugged fiercely at his heart, urging him to find it. He searched among the grass, the woods, the brook… but found nothing. At last, after looking for what felt like a lifetime, he came upon a cradle.

 

 The cradle rested in the middle of a tiny glade beneath the trees. The warm sun gleaned the leaves as they blew from the late summer breeze, brushing his hair toward the front of his face as he approached the cradle. It held a bundle wrapped up in a white blanket, soft and cuddly. He reached in to pick it up when the cradle vanished and the entire forest melted before him.

 

 This nightmarish sight frightened him as he held the bundle to his breasts and dropped to the ground on his knees. He shut his eyes and curled in on the bundle, protecting it and shielding it from this darkness. Then silence… nothing made a sound.

 

 When he finally did open his eyes, what he saw would forever be etched in his memory and chained to his soul. An image appeared of himself, naked while perched upon the throne. His body scarred with many cuts and bruises, his vision blotted out with that same blindfold as he writhed against his restraints of gold chains, holding his arms down over the throne.

 

 He screamed for help, but there was no one around to hear him as the room darkened and thunder roared in the distance. He called out, begging for someone to come for him when they finally did. Two figures, one in a black robe and the other in a red robe approached the imprisoned man on the throne, each wielding an axe.

 

 Suddenly, the bundle fell out of his arms and hovered over into this vision, settling before the throne as the head of the bundle lifted off and revealed a bright, red-headed baby, crying for its mother. He yelled out at this terrifying sight, wanting to run to the baby and scoop it back up in his arms, where he could keep it safe and warm.

 

 The two people stalked closer to the infant, lying at the foot of the throne as the king began to cry louder over the sound of the baby’s mewling. They removed their hoods: the black robe revealed the person to be Gladio, and the red robe revealed the other to be a faceless man.

 

 The faceless man raised his axe and swung at Gladio, who gave a piercing yell before he vanished and the robe fell to the floor, empty. Seeing this horror unfold before him, he tried to pick his body up to run toward it when his feet gave out and he fell back down on his knees, tears streaming down his face as his throat tore terrified screams from the deepest, hidden places of his soul.

 

 The faceless man turned toward the king and picked up the crying infant, holding it before him. Then the faceless man’s neck stretched long enough to reach the king’s ear, whispering close.  _ “You belong to me, beautiful.” _ The voice was deep and low, rasping that lie into the king’s heart. As if on cue, the infant began to scream again, earning a desperate howl from the king as he pleaded for the baby to be released.

 

 The faceless man dropped the baby and let it fall through the dark, marble floor and into the darkness below before it shattered into tiny, floating crystals. Then the man’s cloak spread its bloody wings and enveloped the king, all of these rough, calloused hands roaming over, groping and fondling his flesh without let up. He let out a desperate cry, begging for mercy as his belly quickly began to swell with child once more, but it grew painfully.

 

 His raven crown inched up against the head of the throne as his hands gripped the marble arms harder, his silver engagement band shadowed over in black as it engulfed his hand, curtaining up his arm and over his neck, slowly invading his entire body. His screams went silent within a moment as he pushed the baby down from the intense, agonizing pressure inside his bottom, those brutal hands reaching down and savagely spreading his legs wide open.

 

 Two hands forced their way into his vagina, causing him to howl and plead in pain for them to stop, the cries of his unborn baby assaulting his ears relentlessly. The pain consumed and swallowed him into the depths of nothingness, where the lingering shadows held him in the dead void of his darkness…

 

 “NO!” Noctis shouted, awakening and finally coming out of that nightmare with sweat coursing over his body. The one thing he couldn’t understand was that two hands really were inside of his opening, probing into his wounds. “Get out!”, he yelled hoarsely.

 

 “Oh, good, ya really are alive, pretty thing.”

 

 “Get out!!”, he shouted again as a sharp burning filled his opening. “Get out!” He gripped at the plush comforter and tried to pull himself away from two cold, wrinkled hands reaching inside of him when he felt those abusive palms that belonged to that drawled voice hold him in place.

 

 “No can do, beautiful. He’s here to help ya,” he said, patting Noctis’s purple hip. “Don’t wantcha gettin’ any infections now, do we? Boss’s orders.”

 

 “Who’s here to ‘help’ me?!”

 

 “Doctor Elder, Majesty,” the second pair of hands told him, unfolding some kind of metal device. “You’ve got quite a mess down here, but I’ll clean you up nicely now.” His tone sounded so unsteady and faltered some as he stuck the metal device inside of the king, eliciting a desperate yelp from his lips.

 

 “Huh, leavin’ you alone fer a couple hours and you’ve already got that attitude again. I’ll take care of that right away, Majesty, you just lie there and scream beautifully, alright?” He pressed his wet, rough mouth over Noctis’s throat, kissing and licking to soothe him as the ‘doctor’ cleaned his opening of all the blood and mucus discharge, the metal object spreading his cervix a little too wide.

 

 “Please… enough, just get out…!” Noctis groaned loudly and lolled his head back and forth against the comforter as Rufus’s chapped, hot lips worked over his neck, shoulders and between his breasts. “Oh, gods, it hurts… stop, please!”

 

 “Mmm… say my name, Majesty,” Rufus purred, cupping his stubbled jaw with both hands as he hungrily kissed under his chin. “C’mon… might as well get some… practice in fer later…” He panted through each word, breathing hotly against the king’s flesh.

 

 Noctis groaned again at the sharp pain all of this touching was causing him, mewling softly as the metal was suddenly retracted from his body and the doctor patted it with a soft, cool cloth. It left him squirming with a pinching and burning sensation in his opening.

 

 “Finished now, sir. I’ll just be taking my leave…” The other man shuffled out of the room without another word.

 

 “Say my name, Majesty, it won’t hurt you,” Rufus muttered again, kneading his soft, sore mounds. “Say it!”

 

 As the man squeezed Noctis’s breasts harder, he found he couldn’t resist too much longer. “Will you… take the blindfold off if I… s-say your name?”

 

 “Dunno, you have to say it first, beautiful.”

 

 Why did he keep calling him that? It brought him back to that awful nightmare… that same word whispered harshly into his ear…

 

 He squeezed even harder, biting at one of them. “Say it, baby!”

 

 “Uhn- Rufus!...” Gods, that was too much for him right now, moaning this man’s name in his weakness. “Get off me…” He felt the man push himself off of him finally, making Noctis gasp as he ran both hands down his thighs in a quick motion.

 

 “Good, beautiful, good,” he crawled his fingers back up one of them before pulling away completely. “I like hearin' it come from yer cute, little fuzzy lips. Yer all fresh and clean now… I’ll see you soon, beautiful, when yer ready to scream my name next time.”

 

 The door slammed shut as Rufus left and bolted it in place, the room growing quiet again.

 

 Noctis laid there all alone once more, his bottom throbbing with dull pain as he turned carefully onto his side and quietly cried out sweetly for his Gladio; his mouth lingering a bitter aftertaste from uttering that man’s name… in complete and total darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Gladio, Ignis and Prompto's parts were the hardest to write... trying to come up with a situation for them was pretty difficult, but let me know how you felt about it!
> 
> I tried to provide as much accuracy as I could regarding Noct's post-miscarriage. That baby is resting in peace now... somewhere beneath the waves... I'm crying now.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, more to come soon! A bigger part for the three bros next time! Blessed New Year, everyone <3


	8. Vows in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this is so horrible... I'm so bad for this... this was so painful for me to finish.

Gladio woke up extremely grateful that the clouds veiled the morning sun, just so the blinding light wouldn’t have harmed his tired eyes. His legs hurt with an achiness he never felt before and wondered if maybe it was just the morning dampness, or the fact that he fell asleep in a chair. At least, that’s what he hoped. He didn’t want to have to deal with his own physical pain when his mental and emotional agony already pushed him beyond what he could take.

 

 He didn’t sleep well last night, even though the waves of exhaustion hit him like a truck. He fell into slumber over the desk without an ounce of peace in his heart, leading to the horrible dream he had. He was sitting in a grand cathedral pew when a clanging organ began playing the wedding march. From the right side of the altar, a tall man with a brown beard, wearing a gold and black lined suit strode to the center, awaiting the bride to come forth.

 

 Gladio glanced to his right and found Ignis sitting beside him, giving him a pained smile. But then his eyes began to melt while his smile remained, leaving only his sullen grin. Looking back up at the altar, he found a sickly looking Prompto holding his rusty camera, ready to shoot a picture of the bride. But then the music suddenly stopped and all fell quiet as Ignis clapped slowly, followed by the sounds of wicked laughter from invisible men.

 

 Gladio tried to leave his seat, but was yanked back down by his eyeless friend whose hands turned over to metal, clutching the shield hard and firm as the foyer doors opened. Gladio dared to glance back at the bride when a group of five men stepped out dressed in silken robes each a shade of red, leading the way. Then lastly came Noctis, who appeared heavily pregnant, wrapped in nothing more than a white blanket as he was held by the arm of an undead, hunched over, shorter man and lead up toward the altar.

 

 The setting was complete: a bride, a groom, and the strangely familiar auburn-haired man in the middle to unite them as the whole assembly of misty apparitions stood and looked on. Gladio’s amber eyes went wide at the horrid sight of his Noctis in the clutches of these demons as he struggled to pull away from Ignis’s steel grip, to no avail.

 

 Then the man in the middle began to speak, uttering words in that voice that had taunted and tormented Noctis and his friends for so long… “Dearly beloved! We are gathered here to witness the union of two souls…” He raised his arms at both figures: the man in the gold and black suit approached his partner, while Noctis groaned under the blanket, clutching his swollen middle. The man got down on one knee in front of him and revealed Noctis’s naked flesh when he let the blanket fall off his shoulders and pool at the king’s feet.

 

 Then the groom wetted his lips with his hot tongue dripping with saliva, and pressed a kiss to Noctis’s middle, causing Noctis to gasp loudly at the sensation. The groom removed his glove between his teeth, flexing his long fingers before sticking them underneath the king’s private region. He worked Noctis into a slippery, hot, writhing mess, making him tremble as the king yelped in pain.

 

 Noctis’s soft, desperate moaning hitting his ears threw Gladio into a frenzy, fighting against Ignis’s piercing grip until the king fell to the floor, unconscious. Gladio stared at his weak, pregnant body slumped on the floor as the groom bent down to spread his legs open, crowding over him to lick at his neck.

 

 “No, no, no…” Gladio heard his beloved cry, and then he woke up.

 

 The dream was so vividly disturbing and disgusting that he wondered if it meant something, some kind of sign that he should heed or watch for… his head hurt. Yawning the last bit of grogginess out of his body, he awoke to the melodic droning of Ignis’s voice speaking incoherently to someone else in the room.

 

 “...and they said they wouldn’t? Are you sure?”

 

 “I’m positive.” Cor. “This is the fourth time in two weeks since I’ve asked and they still refuse. Time is running out and all we keep hitting are dead ends.”

 

 “Indeed,” Ignis agreed, “if even the royal council won’t cooperate, then they must know something. Secrets seem to be kept well within the walls of the Citadel.”

 

 “Then how come we don’t force them to talk?”, Talcott spoke up, brushing his feathery hair back underneath his cap. “Y’know, try to threaten them to speak? I mean, it’s not the nicest thing to do… but…”

 

 “Out of the question,” Cor responded quickly. “These men are highly respected. To show them such recklessness and unreasonable behavior would only cause them to withdraw even further. We must think this through cautiously.”

 

 Gladio yawned, catching the attention of all in the study. He glanced blearily at all of them, earning a smile from Talcott and Ignis but only a nod from the marshal. “Anything new, guys?” His tone doubtful and unenthusiastic.

 

 Ignis shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Two weeks and not a shred of evidence, none to be reported anyway.”

 

 “What about Prompto?”

 

 “He’s just finished investigating the outer rings of the city. He’ll be here soon,” he said, straightening the great pile of research papers stacked in front of Gladio.

 

 Cor cleared his throat, eyeing the shield with a soft compassion that others rarely saw in him. “You, on the other hand, should get some proper sleep, Gladio. You’ve been working harder than the rest of us and really deserve a break.”

 

 The stern and parental tone the marshal spoke with made Gladio groan. Being told to rest when he should be out searching for any signs of Noctis caused him to become irritable and a touch angry. “No thanks, Cor. I’ve gotta get back out there.”

 

 “Not when you fall asleep during every discussion,” Ignis chimed in with a soft clap on Gladio’s shoulder. “The marshal is right, Gladio. Go and rest, we’ll take care of everything till you wake up.”

 

 “You’re no good to us half unconscious,” the marshal added.

 

 Gladio stood up with a huff. “I said no. Noct needs me and if I’m not out there looking for him, then I’m failing him! Damn everything if I’m not there for him!” He slammed his palms on the desk, making Talcott jump and let out a small gasp. “King or not, Noct and our baby are my responsibility. I’m a grown man and I’ll do what I have to.”

 

 If it weren’t for the fierce determination and hint of fear in his shaded, bleary amber eyes, one might’ve thought Gladio was acting foolish and letting the pride of his work come between him and his friends.

 

 But this was not so.

 

 When the man took to his task personally and as if his life depended on it, there was no stopping or reasoning with him. He treated every job seriously, no matter the physical and mental exhaustion it cost him. He was trained this way: a shield to the king was always prepared to defend and protect.

 

 Especially when it came to Noctis, his king. He saw this as a test of mettle, a way to prove himself to his lover that he would never leave him in the dark nor forsake his calling as his sworn shield. If anyone was going to risk their life for Noctis’s sake… it would be Gladio.

 

 And he would let nothing stand in his way.

 

 Rubbing his temple, the shield apologized. “Sorry… but I mean what I said, marshal. I’ve gotta find him myself, because if I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

 

 The marshal gave him a knowing smirk. “I know you do, Gladio. I just wish you’d let us help you,” he softened his tone.

 

 “Yeah,” Talcott piped up. “He’s our king too and if I’m gonna pledge my service and become a true member of the Crownsguard one day, then I’ve gotta do my part too, sir.”

 

 Gladio glanced around at them all, smiling tiredly at each one. “I know it… He’s just…” He sighed heavily, the words he wanted to say never quite forming on his tongue. “Noct is just…”

 

 “I know, Gladio,” Ignis said quietly. “I know. You feel as if a part of you is missing… I understand completely. You don’t have to explain.” His soft, sympathetic smile urged one to appear on Gladio’s aging crow’s feet as the advisor sat in the recliner beside Cor. “You do what you feel you must. But please, do try to get some rest?”

 

 When Ignis used that almost begging, don’t-argue-with-me voice, the older man knew he had no choice but to comply with his friend’s wishes. It was something he always relied on in the thick of combat. “I will,” Gladio relented, standing and headed for the door. “But only for an hour,” he joked.

 

 “Two, at the very least,” Ignis chided playfully.

 

 “Ah, that reminds me. Gladio?” Cor’s agedly raspy, authoritative tone stopped the shield in his tracks, turning around to face his superior.

 

 “Marshal?”

 

 “Iris called this morning. She said she wanted to come and help in any way she could, but she refused to drive and wants you to pick her up. Says you owe it to her,” he chuckled mildly.

 

 Gladio scoffed, shaking his head at his sister’s antics. “That’s my sis. I’ll take Prompto and leave for Lestallum as soon as-”

 

 “-you’re well rested!”, Ignis interrupted, sipping what was left of his can of Ebony coffee. “Now go.”

 

 “Yes, sir,” Gladio nodded with a smirk, turning on his heels as he strode out the door.

  
  


 》》》》》

 

 A few hours rest worked wonders on the king’s shield. He felt refreshed and ready to take on whatever and whoever proved to be an obstacle for him. Before he drifted off, he sent a text to Prompto asking him to meet him in the main lobby in two hours, prepared to leave for Lestallum to pick up Iris.

 

 It was a little bit of a challenge to refuse to leave his warm, cozy bed that he and Noctis shared, but he pushed himself harder than he ever had in his life; wanting to flop right back in when he had Noctis returned to his arms to sleep next to. 

 

 He grinned at the lovely image of them both, naked and warmly entwined within each other’s limbs. Gladio holding onto him tighter as Noctis would fall right into peaceful slumber beside his lover, watching his king’s beautiful, stubbled face with every gentle breath he sighed.

 

 That was all he wanted right now: to hold Noctis. To keep him close and kiss at his wonderful, blue-eyed, aged face while the king giggled from the tickling sensation his lover’s beard created. He just wanted to feel him… flesh cuddling flesh… warm and safe, without the fear of ever losing him again. He wanted to whisper those sweet nothings into his ear, filling him with all the promised caresses and gentle fondling he would grace his precious, milky white skin with; longing to feel every inch of Noctis along his body, from every nook and curve to every secret place of wet heat, pulsing with warm fluid begging to be filled and satisfied.

 

 But all of that was only a dream and a memory, wanting one to come true while the other drifted into the unconscious recesses of his aching heart. He wished to feel him again, to hear him and see him; to speak to him and know he’d be there to say something in return. Ignis understood that, yes, Noctis was the other piece of Gladio that made him feel complete, whole. He felt one less half of a human being without his king, his lover beside him.

 

 And that knowledge gnawed constantly, the emptiness that blew hollowly through his side chilled him and left him regretting that night he should have carried him to their warm and protective bedroom. The place Gladio could embrace him forever and keep him from all the hells of this world.

 

 The elevator ride down to the lobby seemed to take forever as Gladio mentally counted how many taps his foot made till that melodic ding sounded at his arrival. The Citadel felt so cold to him since waking up that he buttoned his black sweater up to his throat and brought with him a heavy jacket for the road. At least until they got to Lestallum, the hottest place on the planet.

 

 He stepped out of the shaft and walked slowly toward the front desks where Prompto sat slumped upon one of the benches, awaiting his bulky friend. For some reason, the constant echoes of clicking and typing and ringing of the secretaries at work annoyed him, his ears cringing relentlessly. His blonde friend waved at him lazily, getting to his feet and stretching his back.

 

 “Hey, big guy,” he mumbled on the edge of a yawn. “Ready to hit Lestallum?”

 

 The careless way he uttered those words almost caused Gladio to change his mind. He didn’t really feel like driving all that way today. “Yeah. Let's go. Oh… and uh, thanks for not bein’ late”

 

 Prompto’s half-lidded blues signalled a thumbs up at him. “No problem. I picked up your keys already.”

 

 Gladio grabbed the keys from the blonde’s clammy fingers and nodded his thanks as they stepped out into the dreary, rain soaked chill of the evening, resting on the shoulders of the Crown City.

 

 “So, you’ve got the dark blue pickup, right? Or do you wanna take my car?”

 

 Gladio shrugged at the blonde’s seemingly meaningless question. “Mine. I’ve got better heat.”

 

 Prompto scrunched his face. “Not gonna do us much good in Lestallum, big guy. You know that place makes summer feel like the beginning of winter,” he complained.

 

 “It’ll do for now.”

 

 The parking court of the Citadel was littered with vehicles, most of them parked in the ‘Reserved’ area for the royal councilmen and various other important executives. Unlucky for Gladio, someone had parked way too close to the driver door, forcing him to squeeze impossibly tight into the space to open the door. “Shithead…,” he grumbled, hitting his elbow on the other car’s side mirror.

 

 On their way driving out, they were stopped at the checkpoint gate by a boy no older than 17 and dressed in a Crownsguard uniform that appeared too small for him, asking for their IDs. “Gentlemen? May I see your IDs?”

 

 Gladio stole an annoyed glance at Prompto before fishing out his ID. “Uh, kid, you do know who we are, right?”

 

 The boy nodded. “Sure do, Lord Amicitia, but I’ve gotta follow protocol or else they’ll fire me.”

 

 “I hear ya,” Prompto piped up, a laugh sliding off his tongue. “Jobs in the Citadel cost dear if you can’t do ‘em…” Catching the slight anger in Gladio’s ambers made him shut up.

 

 “Thanks,” the boy said, handing back their IDs with a grin. “Be careful!”

 

 A wave was thrown his way as Gladio sped out of the gates, leaving tire marks on the smooth pavement. On approaching the freeway of the Crown City bridge, a downpour began and pounded on the roof of the truck. Turning on the windshield wipers barely helped, when they created misty residue with every swipe.

 

 Prompto kept his hands in his lap and stared out the window, his blue eyes tracing the watery paths of some raindrops rolling down. He took a few quick glances at his friend’s sullen, scarred face and frowned at the sight. He couldn’t know how desolate Gladio must have been feeling, but he understood that pain inside.

 

 The pain of missing a close and loving friend.

 

 The shield kept his ambers fixed on the road ahead, occasionally swearing under his breath when he couldn’t make out the lines in the road nor the difference between fog and the sky. Just the drive alone was making him frustrated, and on top of everything else couldn’t understand why Iris couldn’t just drive herself. It would’ve been a hell of a lot easier on him.

 

 The two men barely said one word to each other since beginning their ride and the silence was really starting to grate on Prompto’s nerves. He wasn’t used to not talking for so long and he also just wanted to know what was going on in his friend’s head. “Soooo, uh…”

 

 Gladio internally flinched away from his free-floating thoughts as Prompto’s accidentally loud voice hit his ears, flexing his hands tighter on the steering wheel.

 

 “How are ya doin’, big guy? I mean, since y’know, it happened two weeks ago? You feeling okay?”

 

 “Why are you asking?”

 

 “Uh, just ‘cause… I’m worried about you. I know Iggy’s the one who’s worrying the most, but I’m sure he’s better at hiding it than the rest of us,” he said, breaking his gaze with the wet window to watch Gladio’s expressions. He winced when he saw the dark bags under his ambers and the tired puffiness of his eyelids. “You know?”

 

 “Hm,” he replied. “Iggy’s always like that though.”

 

 “Yeah, but I mean he’s more worried about you than anything,” Prompto switched the subject over to Gladio purposefully. “He’s afraid you’re working too hard.”

 

 “Has he been talking to you about me behind my back?”, he asked defensively.

 

 Prompto responded immediately with a shake of both hands. “Ah, no, ‘course not! It’s just that I’ve been helping him more often than usual and I’ve noticed he brings up your name a lot when we talk.”

 

 “And that’s significant… why?”

 

 “Because we’re just genuinely concerned about you, big guy. Is there anything wrong with worrying about a friend?”

 

 Gladio grunted, avoiding a plastic bag in the road with a jolt of the vehicle. “Only if you stand in that friend’s way, or try to stop him from doing what he has to.”

 

 Prompto blew spit at this, thinking it incredibly ridiculous that Gladio was putting up a wall between them. “Noct isn’t missing because of you, Gladio,” he said suddenly. “You’ve gotta stop taking this out on yourself.”

 

 “Yes. Yes, he’s missing because I wasn’t the kind of future husband I should’ve been. All I had to do was pick him up and carry him to bed, it’s not that hard to figure out.” His voice rose as he began berating himself the 7th time that week.

 

 “No, Gladio, it’s not your fault.”

 

 “Is too.”

 

 “Is not!”

 

 “Is too, Prompto! He was exhausted, the poor baby! He was so tired and I LEFT him! Me, the useless fuck who’s supposed to be his shield… I left him…” He angrily wiped the tears that fell from his lumpy eyes, trying to focus on the road. “Now would you let me drive?”, he shot a glare at his blonde friend.

 

 “You’re not a useless fuck, Gladio. Noct asked you to go and let him finish his work, right? Then it’s not your fault he’s gone!”

 

 “Drop it, Prompto.”

 

 Prompto turned in his seat to face the tattooed man. “We’ll find him. And when we do, he’s gonna give you the scolding of your life for blaming-”

 

 “I said DROP IT! FORGET THE FUCKING CONVERSATION!!!” He pulled over quickly to the side of the road and shifted to park, leaning over the steering wheel to calm himself.

 

  Prompto sat quiet, listening to the lonely pitter patter of the soft raindrops on the roof of the truck. He dared not say anymore.

 

 A long sigh and a couple seconds respite. “Look,” Gladio spoke then. “I’m sorry for snapping like that… I’m not a very happy camper right now, huh?”

 

 Prompto nodded, clearing the lump that began to grow behind his Adam’s apple. “Ok… I get it. I… just want to know if… you really think we’ll find him, Gladio.”

 

 Gladio gave him a sympathetic frown, furrowing his brows when he noticed the tears filling his younger friend’s blues. “We have to, Prompto. I can't live without him… I just can’t,” he admitted with a gulp as if he had just spilled out his guts to the blonde. “He’s my everything… and I know you guys feel the same.”

 

 “Yeah, we do… I miss my best friend and Iggy just wants us all together again…”

 

 “So do I… but that’s why I’ve gotta keep going even when I’m dead tired. Noct is depending on me, on us. I wouldn’t give up on him for anything,” Gladio slapped Prompto on the back, flashing a reassuring smirk at him. “Now quit crying and let’s go get my sister.”

 

 Prompto chuckled through his slight tears, strapping himself back in. “Right. Tears are for later… happy tears. Now, we’ve gotta step up and be the men we were born to be.”

 

 “That’s more like it,” he laughed, shifting the car back into drive and pulling back out onto the road.

  
  


 》》》》》

 

 “...that’s all I want… just to be with him again...” Noctis held a strand of his silky, ashen hair in between his thumb and forefinger and slowly twirled it. The rhythmic thrashing and crashing of the ocean waves promised release as the cool, salty breeze blew across his face.

 

 “Gladio, I love you…,” he whispered into his cupped hands before stretching them out of the hole in the plank wall, letting the wind carry his raven strand out into the sea. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, he stood there and gratefully allowed the soothing sea air to resume caressing his stubbled features.

 

 This had become sort of a ritual for the king, a way to find release from his prison and quiet reverence for both reflection and closure. For two weeks, this had become his ‘home’, the creaking, the groaning and all the rotten smells, his house guests. It was so intensely lonely and frightening, but he had no choice. At least he wasn’t at the mercy of those vile men right now; fortunately, no one had come in since the night of his miscarriage and he was thankful for that.

 

 He had begun this little ceremony around the middle of his first week here, desperate for some measure of peace he could give himself in his never ending darkness. He would start by plucking a piece of hair from his head, holding it in his fist and pressing a kiss to the back middle of his hand. Then, he would lie on his back with his legs spread wide and hold the strand inside of his vagina, sliding it in little circles to coat it in his fluid.

 

 Finally, he would walk slowly toward the hole in the wood and cup his piece of hair with both hands, whispering a wish into his palms before he held them out and gave his raven lock to the freedom of the world of light beyond his shadowy confines. It helped him find comfort, providing him the release he longed for. He did this every day, often wishing more for Gladio than for himself.

 

 Gladio… Noctis felt so empty without him, so vulnerable without his shield.

 

 Feeling a soft peace in his heart, he stayed by the wooden window and hummed a gentle song. He smiled as the ocean waves sounded like they were singing a chorus along with the king, a haunting serenade that drifted on the eastern breeze as the sun set below the purple and orange laced horizon.

 

 For the first time in weeks, he felt his spirit lifted, his burdens lessened and his heart at ease, hoping this living hell was almost finished with him. He prayed that whatever else these men had in mind to do to him, it would end quickly. All he wanted was to be held by his love… his Gladio. To be safe and warm, enveloped in his protective arms.

 

 Suddenly, he heard the wood floor creak loudly multiple times. He knew well enough from experience that the floor wasn’t creaking from the drop in temperature, but from weight. Human weight. Someone was coming towards his room. He counted the footsteps, ghosting the numbers on his lips.  _ “2, 3, 4, 5,...”  _ Then they began to quicken, almost running for his room.

 

 He turned toward where the heavy footsteps were traversing from and stepped back away from the wooden hole, setting a greater distance between himself and the door that he had only just recently learned the position of in relation to the bed. No, there was more than just one pair of footsteps, that much he could tell. It sounded like at least three people… or so he thought.

 

 He flinched as the door was slammed into and banged against the wall, the heavy steps descending the large drop into the room very slowly. They crept forward, followed by two other slightly lighter footsteps. No words were spoken as they stalked closer to him, his heart thrumming rapidly as the tension hung heavily over the room.

 

 Then the steps halted. The sound of heavy breathing filtered through his eardrums, though he didn’t have to strain hard to hear it. He heard two steps behind him now as the other four stepped forward, until two large arms wrapped around his belly and he let out a sharp gasp, the arms pulling him flush against a woolly chest.

 

 “Mm-mm… today’s the day, Majesty. The day you become mine,” Rufus’s sickening drawl seeped into his ears, crowding his breathing space. His broad hands found their way along Noctis’s rib cage that stuck out ever so slightly. “Oooo, yer losin’ some weight! But I don’t like that, so I’m gonna fatten you back up, baby…”

 

 Noctis squirmed in his arms, groaning as the man tightened his hold. “The day for what?”, he dared to question, his voice sounding hoarsely feeble after going so long without another human being to talk to.

 

 “Fer us, beautiful… I haven’t seen you in a long time, but damn. Aren’t you just the purtiest thing this here side of Lucis?”

 

 Noctis pushed against his arms, his breaths coming quickly and hitching as all of his fear came running back into his heart. “What about the old man?”, he gasped out.

 

 Rufus chortled through a wicked, white grin, his hot lips tickling the king’s nape with subtle vibrations. “He’s kinda busy, baby… so he left everything up to me today. But don’t worry… I’ve got special plans in mind fer us,” the hiss that slipped out of his teeth hugged Noctis’s throat like a collar, choking his last moments of peace to death.

 

 “We goin’ now, Rufus?” The raspy voice of another man flew by his ears.

 

 “Now,” Rufus answered, handing the king over to the other man’s rough hands. “Bring him with us, but make sure he walks on his own.”

 

 “Yes, sir,” the third man breathed forcefully, rubbing up and down the king’s arms. He unintentionally brushed over Noctis’s stab wound from the sharp plank piece of the first day, earning a groan from him as he began to walk. “Sorry, Majesty, but keep moving.”

 

 “Easy, boys. Remember, he’s mine today,” Rufus reminded them, a slight purr following his words.

 

 Of course, because of the blindfold still locked tight across his eyes, he had no idea where they were taking him. But his bare feet knew as they slowly scraped along the hard, splintery floor with every step; the man behind him held him steady with a hand on his spine, but Noctis winced often because of his still raw scar down his back if the man pushed him too hard.

 

 No one talked during their trip to who knows where in the dark. Noctis found himself stumbling to his knees a bit down what sounded to be an empty corridor as all eight footsteps echoed through the walls. But the two men accompanying them made triple sure that Noctis didn’t disappoint their ‘boss’, pulling him back to his feet by his hair.

 

 Noctis feared he may have been dreading this more than that tiny room he was subjected to for two weeks, at least there he knew nothing unforeseen would happen. He had come to regard that room as a safe haven, a place his fears seemed quelled for however long he would stay there alone.

 

 But this… Forced to walk in the dark while led by these three men, unwillingly shuffling forth into the unknown pushed him past his reasonable fears and further into downright panic. He tried not to let them see it in his body language, but Rufus was the main cause of his fear, especially right now. The man was taller, stronger, leaner and had the use of all his strength and all five senses to where he could bring Noctis to his lowest point: both physically and psychologically wounded.

 

 By now, he heard even louder echoes as his feet moved him onto cold cobblestone, even his own breaths hurting his sensitive ears. He sensed it was a rather large room given how blaring Rufus’s drawl rang out.

 

 “Up the stairs, beautiful… a bit of a ritual is required first…”

 

 Stairs? What stairs? He actually thought the man was lying until he whined as his cold toes stubbed the hard stone steps.

 

 “Up, Majesty,” the man behind him commanded, giving him a quick shove that almost brought him to his hands and knees as he tripped on the first few steps.

 

 “I’m going,” Noctis had the audacity to bite back as he slowly made his way up alone with his head down.

 

 Apprehension started getting the best of him, suddenly feeling afraid to even breathe as he mentally counted the steps he had walked so far; a couple minutes and he was at 20… gods, lots of steps for his achy legs. He caught the sound of Rufus clearing his throat before he cat-called, his whistle shattering the silence and making Noctis flinch and lift his head.

 

 “Don’t I just love that view of you, beautiful… mm-mm-mmm… now, c’mere,” he called from the top of the stairs.

 

 Noctis finally reached the top step and stumbled forward, not knowing that it was the end of the stairs as he steadied himself. He could hear the vile noise of Rufus’s thick saliva trailing down his throat as he breathed with a slightly parted mouth, his own breathing shallow as he shuffled toward the man’s voice.

 

 “C’mon now, beautiful, over here.” He stretched out his hand for the king to take when he found him. Which wasn’t long and before Noctis could back away, Rufus had grabbed him and pulled him down onto a low, fluffy bed littered with pillows. The man let out a heavy sigh as he turned them both over onto their sides, swinging his naked muscular leg over Noctis’s thighs. He snuggled in close to the king’s scarred back, lacing his broad arms across his breasts and pressing his hairy chest flush to his spine.

 

 Noctis moaned, feeling all of his bruises and weary muscles start to ache as he struggled in the man’s hot, crippling hold. “You said there was a ritual…? What is it?”

 

 Rufus chuckled, leaving small kisses along the king’s shoulders. “You’ll hear it in a few short minutes, baby…”

 

 Rufus’s wicked grin beckoned with a veiny finger for the very long line of men lined all the way down the stairs and through the corridor to come forward. “Come greet your king, men!”, he shouted authoritatively, ringing in Noctis’s ears.

 

 Noctis shivered, fearfully anticipating what this little ‘ritual’ would entail as the first man approached the two prone, naked figures with a bow. “Your Majesty…”

 

 The king said nothing and made no indication that he heard the man.

 

 Noctis yelped as Rufus yanked his head back, whispering harshly into his ear. “Acknowledge him next time, Majesty. He was speaking to you.” He let go as Noctis choked for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

 

 The next set of boots stopped before them, bowing. “Your Majesty,” the man greeted them.

 

 Noctis reluctantly nodded at him with a nervous hum, but only received another forceful tug on his head.

 

 “You should know better, Majesty. He was bowing to me,” Rufus scolded with venom, lightly patting the king’s ass.

 

 Noctis’s mouth dropped at this. What the hell was the man talking about? The bow in reverence couldn’t have been for Rufus, he wasn’t king! Confused beyond his slight comprehension of the entire event, Noctis shut his lips and carried on.

 

 “Your Majesty.” Yet another man bowed.

 

 Noctis said nothing, only lying there smushed by Rufus’s hairy nakedness. His hair was pulled again followed by a slap to his cheek, quieting his yelp.

 

 “I said ACKNOWLEDGE him, Majesty! Yer people need to hear your VOICE.”

 

 Noctis squirmed and let out a long groan as the man’s angered drawl hit home. He was afraid of how many times this little game would continue, but if he refused to cooperate, what he would receive for punishment frightened him more.

 

 “Your Majesty” was uttered again by a higher voiced man than before.

 

 Noctis responded, “I hear you,” then another hard slap to his face and he cried out. “What did I do wrong?!”

 

 “He greeted ME, beautiful… and don’t raise your voice to me.” He stuck his bottom knee between Noctis’s legs and bounced his cock, earning a whiny moan from the king as he arched back. “Now, do as I told you.”

 

 This went on for at least an hour, and with every man after another came slap after slap to Noctis’s swollen, abused face. Every cry that fell from the king’s lips was met with a vicious laugh from Rufus, who hugged him closer and closer till his hardening member was pressed in tight between Noctis’s ass cheeks.

 

 Then the very last man approached them slowly and Rufus’s chortles halted immediately, Noctis still panting and wrapped snugly within his broad limbs.

 

 The man spoke. “Your Majesty,” he bowed slowly. The voice on this man was deep and a bit terrifying, the heavy droning of his tone resonating in Noctis’s head.

 

 The king breathed a sigh and replied, “I… hear you.” Only once Rufus untangled himself from him did Noctis realize he had failed this game again, the other man’s huge hands reaching for him and lifting him on his feet.

 

 Noctis let out a small gasp when the larger man, taller and bigger than Rufus, held his chin firmly and studied him from all angles. “This is our  _ king _ ? He’s puny, and too scrawny,” he judged blankly, thumbing Noctis’s chapped lips. “But he sure is good-lookin’...”

 

 “Yeah, that’s him,” Rufus assured as he pulled his tight tank top back on. “The last King of Lucis...and he’s got the mark to prove it.”

 

 The man whipped Noctis around roughly to view his eternal mark that had since turned a pale pink running down his spine. “Ahhhh! I see it now… yes… tell me your name, boy.”

 

 Noctis held his hands together and tried to calm his shaking body as he played along. “King N-Noctis Lucis Caelum… CXIV…”

 

 He jolted when the man clapped his shoulder and let out a roaring laughter, to which the entire room joined in. “That’s fine, Noctis! Just your first name! You taught him well, Rufus, very well…”

 

 Rufus scoffed through his sniggers. “He’s learning… still talks back, but I’ll fix that soon enough.”

 

 “Well,” the huge man said after a short period of nothing but harsh chuckling. “You want me to bring him in?”

 

 “That’ll do fine. The plan, remember?”

 

 “‘course I do, Rufus. You’re the boss,” he praised him, picking Noctis up in his arms with ease and cradling him in bridal fashion.

 

 Noctis couldn’t find any more words to speak with, his mind still repeating that ‘ritual’ over and over. What did it mean? Rufus had told him that it would be the first thing they did, but first before what exactly? He had also said today was the day when Noctis would be his, but how? And why was Rufus reprimanding him when he acknowledged the men, saying they were addressing HIM…?

 

 He squirmed some in the huge man’s arms, but eventually gave up halfway to… where was he going? If there was one thing he could say, this was something he absolutely had to know. Of all things, the darkness of the blindfold was most frightening to him when he knew he was being carried somewhere against his will.

 

 “Where are you taking me?”, he asked.

 

 The huge man laughed deeply once more at the king’s pathetic question. “No questions, Noctis. Rufus ordered it, so just relax and we’ll be there in no time.” He spoke with so much kindness and respect for the king that it was hard for Noctis to believe that he aligned himself with these monsters.

 

 Still, Noctis wasn’t satisfied with that. He had to know. “Please,” he pleaded weakly, “please, just tell me where we’re going… it’s all I want to know.”

 

 “Quiet, Majesty.”

 

 The man’s sharp change in tone is what shut Noctis up completely as he was taken further and further into unknown shadows.

 

 They brought him into the same large warehouse chamber from his first day here, except Noctis could tell it wasn’t as quiet as it was before and it reeked of self-indulged sex with that musty odor of rotting wood. The heavy shuffling of many boots aggravated the king’s heightened hearing, causing him to wince and moan at the discomfort.

 

 “Easy, Noctis…,” the huge man said, shifting him to where his head lay comfortably on his taut, tender bicep. “Almost there.”

 

 The second Rufus entered in behind them, he motioned at the two other men standing at attention against the wall, to come to the center of the room and strip. “That’s far enough, Gideon. Now wait fer a minute while we git things… ready,” he commanded, winking at the raven king.

 

 The man carrying Noctis, Gideon, stood until a further command was given. “I hope you enjoy what we’ve prepared for you, Noctis. Rufus has been waiting for this for a long time,” he whispered into the king’s raven crown.

 

 Noctis replied with only a small whimper, his mind completely occupied by the sound of discarded clothes and harsh snickering that became disturbing chuckles. He tried to keep himself focused on something else, threading his fingers together and wiggling them between each other. But it didn’t help at all.

 

 It wasn’t long before he was ready when Rufus whistled for Gideon to bring Noctis over to him and his two naked friends. Noctis’s heart beating a mile a minute as Gideon trudged over, purposefully making the king’s sore legs swing as he walked.

 

 “We’ve got a special place fer you to sit, Majesty. It ain’t quite a throne, but it’s pretty important nonetheless,” Rufus said, his heavy drawled accent in closer proximity than Noctis would have liked. “Go ahead, Gideon. Sit him down nice ‘n’ easy…”

 

 Following the command exactly as it was spoken, Gideon shifted the king to where he held him up by his elbows, lowering him to the floor. “Just relax, Noctis. You’ll like this, I promise,” he cooed. “We’ll make you feel like a true king.”

 

 Silence invaded his head as he readied himself to be placed on the grimy, damp wood floor that earned one’s flesh splinters just from sitting on it… but when Gideon stopped lowering him and held him suspended, he whined in protest. “Please, let me down… this hurts… Please, just- gaaahhhh!”

 

 He yelled and kicked his legs as two savage hands spread his ass cheeks apart. His over-sensitive ears caught a sickening slick sound, the man at his ass coating his two fingers in saliva before he pried him open even farther.

 

 “W-what the hell are you doing?!,” he grimaced, groaning as the hands pulled him wider than he thought his ass could go. “Stop! Wait!” He groaned louder before it morphed into a scream.

 

 “It’s alright, Majesty, we have to slick you up beforehand. Or else you might be hurt,” Rufus said, grinning sadistically as his friend worked the king’s cheeks open. “Yer gonna be just gorgeous… sittin’ here and gettin’ that attitude fucked out of ya… yer gonna belong to me, beautiful…”

 

 Noctis yelped and kicked harder, the sudden pressure from the man’s two fingers slipping into his hole and stretching him as he pushed them deeper and deeper. His ass felt like it was burning until the man finally withdrew his fingers, leaving his hole aching with a hot, throbbing pain. 

 

 “Please… please,” Noctis gasped, squirming against Gideon’s mountainous arms. “Please, let me down… please… please, it burns…” His feeble whimpers echoed along every musty plank of wooden wall.

 

 “You heard His Majesty, Gideon. Let ‘em down,” Rufus said. “ _ Gently _ .”

 

 The huge man lowered him down, but Noctis barely had time to catch his breath before he was slid onto the engorged cock of the man behind him, his scream piercing every eardrum in the warehouse. He was set right in his lap, the man bucking his hips up into the king’s sore hole as he soothingly rubbed his arms up and down. “You’re alright, Majesty, think of me as your own personal palankeen!”

 

 Noctis yelled desperately for help from any ounce of goodness in any man he knew was here. He couldn’t believe he had fallen so low as to beg for their help, his tears filling his eyes as they soaked his blindfold. Why did he still try to believe there was any hope for him?

 

 His gasps grew louder as the man thrust faster, bouncing him on his lap. The pain increased and soon he felt a stream of warm fluid running out of his hole, the man inside of him only laughing as the blood trickled down his cheeks. “Your turn, pal,” he called to someone else, whose merciless hands reached for the king’s hips and held them tight in place.

 

 “Look at that arousal, wouldja? He knows what he wants, don’t he?”

 

 The crude and indecent comment from the other man made embarrassment and humiliation etch themselves red on the king’s tear-stained face, every inch of dignity slowly being fucked out of his tired soul. Noctis’s howling cry earned him a harder thrust as the second man chomped down on his half-hard member, assaulting it with quick flicks of his lewd tongue that caused a whirlpool of both pain and a pleasurable sensation to drown his insides.

 

 They pounded into him and sucked him dry till he was writhing in horrible agony and crying in ragged, shallow gasps. Overwhelming pressure flooded every muscle in his trembling body, pushing him way beyond how much pleasure he could take at once. He shivered and shook all over as he approached a dual orgasm, both men sweet-talking him as they continued to torture his sensitive parts. That disgusting slap of flesh sliding in and out of flesh haunting his poor, overstimulated eardrums.

 

 “Aw, you’re so pretty, Majesty! Anyone ever tell you that?” The first man thrust into him even harder, getting him to yell yet again. "Hold my hand, baby," he purred.

 

 “Incredibly sexy too,” the second man uttered, coming off Noctis’s cock with a slick pop. “He’s delicious… mmm…”

 

 The king groaned as his first orgasm hit him like the clenching knot in his stomach had suddenly dropped to his waist, throwing his head back into the other man’s sweaty crook of his neck. The man on his cock swallowed every dribble of Noctis’s white seed as he bucked up toward his mouth and then finished with a bitter, rough kiss right on his parted, swollen lips. “Thanks, Majesty… you sure are a pretty prize,” he whispered against his lips before leaving him to his ‘friend’.

 

 Noctis came in his bottom not too long after, the man following his lead as his cum shot deep inside the king, pushing it further into him to make sure he caused as much pain as possible before pulling out too quickly. The man got up and dumped Noctis out of his lap, letting him flop onto his hands and knees as he blindly cried at the burning pain in his ass; the dark red fluid trailing down his legs.

 

 The man slapped his ass afterwards, eliciting from his dry, hoarse voice a long moan. “He’s all yours now, Rufus,” he waved at their boss, who wasted no time in coming to stand before the kneeling king.

 

 Noctis sat on all fours, choking on his own tears as he tried to breathe normally. But his body was wracked with so much pain that he couldn’t help how small and weak he sounded. “WAIT!”, he cried out as Rufus grabbed a fistful of his raven locks and picked him slightly off of his hands. “PLEASE!”

 

 The golden-eyed man licked his lips, gazing down at his royal prize with all the insane lust he had kept caged until this moment. “You know how long I’ve waited fer this? How long I’ve waited just to TOUCH you? You will be mine, Majesty… I’ll mark you fer life… and no one,” he paused with a low grumble, leaning dangerously close to his sensitive ear with a heavy, overbearing breath, “will be able to save you from me… not even  _ him _ .  _ He’ll  _ never find you,  _ he’ll  _ never hear you, and  _ he’ll  _ never see you again. I’ll make sure of it… yer not ever returning home, beautiful. You will stay forever in my arms.”

 

 Noctis let out the loudest cry between pleading whimpers, knowing exactly of whom he was speaking…

 

_ Gladio. _ He meant Gladio. “Gladio” would never find him, he would never be able to save him… he would never bring him home again. Noctis’s heart truly felt broken in two, his soul completely and utterly lost in the darkness…  _ his  _ darkness, the one tied over his window to the world of light. He felt certain that his deep blue eyes would never see Gladio’s strong, loving, comforting amber gaze again.

 

 Least ways, as long as he still held breath in this desolate, broken body.

 

 Rufus brutally threw Noctis’s head back against the hard, musty floor, crawling over him to pin him below his overpowering wall of muscle. He wasted no time as he conquered Noctis, breaking his constant train of wails with a deep, rough kiss, groping and fondling his loose flesh that were once forming into breasts.

 

 Noctis moaned into his violent mouth, Rufus forcing his hot tongue down his throat to silence him. He continued his rough groping of the king’s breasts while his other calloused hand reached for the back of his head to bring him closer to his face, nuzzling into his dark stubble.

 

 His ears had heard too much now, the heavy groans and low gasping of this man pleasing himself on top of him made this all feel like a prison, and he knew Rufus wasn’t going to release him until HE was done with him. All the aching, all the trembling in his body, all the heartwrenching and agonizing misery he had exhausted himself of eventually lead to his silence, his only protests against this man were a few desperate whimpers and breathless wheezes as Rufus placed all of his weight on Noctis.

 

 “No more waiting,” he breathed hotly into the king’s swollen, bleeding lips as his rude palms worked dark bruises all over his milky flesh, leaving him patterned purple and white. “I want you, beautiful… I want you to SCREAM for me!” He gripped Noctis’s legs and hauled them over his shoulders, positioning his hugely grotesque, bulging member at his entrance, taking a deep breath before he pushed in with all of his strength.

 

 Noctis responded to the brutal attack with only a short, breathy groan and a high arch of his back, trying to hold himself back while hearing nothing but Rufus’s heaving lungs as he forced himself deeper.

 

 He knew he was going to be left with throbbing pain and dried blood inside of his private parts, left with bruises and tears and cuts in his abused flesh, the sticky, odorous aftermath of a horrid ejaculation within his womb… but he was wrong when he thought he would be left without giving this man the vocal desperation he was looking for… when the crowd of men began to cheer.

 

 Rufus thrust slowly at first, watching Noctis carefully for any sign of pain and suffering. It caused a rage to break out in him when the king made only little sounds of discomfort. But then his pride instantly flared back up as the mass of men egged him on, howling and barking at him as he sped up his thrusts. “I said SCREAM for me, beautiful! They wanna hear ya too! SCREAM!”

 

 Noctis’s sensitive ears zinged and rang with a piercing hiss as all the deep roars of the crowd chanted Rufus’s name over and over again with every painful thrust. Suddenly, he felt the urge to buck his hips into Rufus’s as the thrusting turned from pain to pleasure, filling his opening with a heated pressure.

 

 “I… can’t…”, Noctis whimpered, letting out a shallow gasp as Rufus thrust faster. The men’s chanting, howling and whistling invaded every hidden crevice in Noctis’s ears, finally earning a louder cry from him. “STOP, PLEASE!”

 

 “What’d you say, beautiful? Speak up!”, Rufus shouted, gripping his hips and yanking them forward with another pained cry from the king, who pushed as hard as he could on Rufus’s chest to get him away. “SCREAM!”

 

 Noctis cried out once more, feeling so over his limit that his own voice sounded so foreign to him: hoarse, raspy, and so very weak. He had tried for so long not to give in, not to show weakness or fear, but this was too much; too intense not to let his body respond the way it called out for Rufus’s savage actions.

 

 He gave in.

 

 “Rufus…”, he muttered weakly, gasping afterwards as Rufus pounded inside of him.

 

 “I am your master, Noctis. You hear me?” He reached for Noctis’s hands and brought them together in a brutal one-handed grip as large, purple bruises laced his wrists; his previously broken wrist cracking and burning as he screamed and squirmed against all the pain. “You will obey me, kneel before me!” Every phrase he yelled at the king, he thrust harder as Noctis screamed for him to stop. “You. Are. MINE! SCREAM for me!”

 

 One more thrust and Noctis’s body was sent spirling into a forced orgasm, a final arch and he let go… at last, this monster hearing what he had wanted to hear for so long. “RUFUS!!”, Noctis screamed it at the top of his exhausted lungs, collapsing onto the dirty, wood floor as Rufus’s cum spilled heavily and greedily swam deep into the king’s empty womb, claiming it as their own.

 

 Just like his seed, Rufus leaned down with a heavy sigh and bit down hard on Noctis’s neck, leaving a bloody gap in his crook. His mark of ownership, his teeth grazing over to suck on his wounded shoulder before pulling out of his sticky opening gently. “Yes, yer all mine, beautiful… and now that you are," he whispered, cupping the king's wet, stubbled cheek. "I'm gonna give you a new name. Not Noctis and definitely not Majesty... ah, I've got just the one..." He pressed a soft kiss to his cupped cheek, lingering for a moment. "Beautiful. Your new name is 'beautiful'. _ And you belong to me..." _

 

 Noctis began to cry, overwhelmed by all the savage torture he failed to endure. His body shivered and shook as the dull pain coursed through every muscle, every bone and every inner pocket of strength he thought he had. But there was nothing left of him as he lay there at Rufus’s feet, weeping into the darkness surrounding him.

 

 Rufus gathered him up in his arms and carried him away from the massive gathering of men, who praised him as he strutted into the foggy shadows of the wooden halls with the king lying limp in his cradle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end, I think my mind saw the situation better than my fingers could type it into words... I hate when that happens. I hope you can picture it just like I could!
> 
> This isn't nearly the end for anything... just hope you're prepared for the rest.


	9. Silver and Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have so many new ideas just flowing into my head for this one since I found a glitch video on YouTube on how to play as the older party in Lucis!!!!!
> 
> I can die happy now :) Lol
> 
> So, here's Chapter 9, and I hope you find it as horrible as I do. (In a good way)

Bruised hips bucked violently through the air, dry, cracked, pale hands desperately gripped at the velvet pillows below as a soft but greasy, raven crown buried itself into the bed. A shrill whine forced itself out of pink, swollen lips orgasm after orgasm, every muscle twitching like it just drew its last breath. The overwhelming power of a broad, hairy body smothering every inch of nakedness.

The only time he could ever remember feeling this exhausted as if he were on the brink of death, was the night he fought Ardyn. All the pain he suffered that night had brought him to his knees, his lungs burning, his body completely worn from the struggle of battle. But he would do it all again for the sake of living among the ones he loved.

He would sacrifice himself all over again…

If it could only be that simple, he would rather choose death than be subject to this cruel and inhumane torture that broke him inside and out. His whole world was nothing but darkness, enveloping him in shadows that squeezed and groped until he was screaming against them, this man’s voice being the only sound of life he could hear.

A few times, he thought he might have died in his sleep, however long he was allowed for such rest. One word whispered so sickeningly sweetly in his ear was the only warning this man would give him before slamming hard and merciless into the king, helpless yelps tossed from his tongue as brutal, callous sex invaded his body.

When he was finally left to the darkness within the cloth that shaded his eyes, even then the relief never came. Every passing second feeling like a lifetime, his hands reaching for any sense of reality in order to escape this eternal nightmare. The more he thought about it, the deeper his regret grew. He had a chance, for two weeks, he had a chance to end his life. He could have strangled himself, drowned himself in that little bowl of water left to him...buried himself in blankets and suffocated to death…

But how was it any right of his to end his life? A life that was never his to begin with, let alone a life where he was never free to choose his fate or what he wanted. He was king, servant to the people and sovereign over all of Lucis, best friend to Ignis and Prompto, lover to Gladio and the rest of their lives together, sold to the Astrals, and bent in half for the selfishness of the past Kings of Lucis...

No, he didn’t even own himself… Everyone else did. And it was forced upon him who currently claimed his life now, his body, his hair, his lips, his sex… everything about him belonged to this one man. Honestly, it was no different since the day he came into this world, just as naked and helpless as he was now.

One last powerful thrust and Rufus was done with him again, his violent, rushed retreat leaving the king limp, weak and in terrible pain as his trembling legs fell to the side and he curled up in the field of pillows, moaning as the man’s hot cum dribbled out of his opening.

Rufus smiled down at him, giving his ass a firm slap as he did to let him know he was finished until the next time. “Mm… I ain’t gonna git tired of you any time soon, beautiful. It’s like you were made fer me.”

Noctis waited till his footsteps were well out of earshot before letting out a breath he had been holding for quite some time, probably since a little bit ago when Rufus initiated their sex with that first rough kiss.

“Now you just lie there and look pretty, alright? I got some business to tend to, and your little old friend is gonna be comin’ to look at what I’ve done to ya. He might be a little upset, but I don’t care. You’re mine and that’s all I care about,” he said, his laughter filling the empty stone chamber between the two men. “Be good and I’ll bring you something nice. Be bad, and… well, I’ll have to see how you behave before I make that judgement.”

His heavy boots faded away and the silence that took his place suddenly became too loud for Noctis to bear. The fact that his ears rang even in the absence of noise was unsettling, fearing that this blindfold might have caused more damage than he realised. He just wanted his eyes back, he needed to know where he was at least. But he knew even if he begged for it, they weren’t so gracious to just hand it to him.

Noctis was beginning to understand a tiny bit more about these men, forever regretting how his ears had heard all those lewd howls, barks, and chants as Rufus claimed him. They seemed loyal to the man, willing to please and ready to obey his every command. If that was true, then Noctis was in a lot more trouble than he initially believed, prone and defenseless to their evil intentions.

It was nothing new as Noctis pondered how he would ever be able to escape this. He had been trying to come up with some way for two whole weeks, the best option he thought of was pleading for release. But that was useless, these men making it clear to him that they wanted to keep him for some kind of plan they had. The king did, however, feel a small sense of accomplishment at attempting to maintain a level head through all that he had endured thus far.

But it was small. And not even that was enough to spur him on as hard as he tried.

 

》》》》》

The old man strode first into the large hall, followed closely by a group of men. The sigh he let out came from his disapproval of the sight in front of him, up at the altar they had built out of cobblestone where Rufus pounded senseless into his prized prisoner. Noctis’s ragged groaning earned a few snickers from the men below, the old man pinching the bridge of his nose.

This was not quite what he had in mind for their “king”.

He hobbled up a few steps, his cane smacking each one as he approached them. “Rufus,” he called out sternly, expecting him to respond by halting his actions.

But he didn’t, refusing to stop when he threw him his golden glare. “I’m busy, can’t ya see?” His drawl was low and deep, heavy with lustful breaths.

“We must discuss some things,” he pressed. “It’s of the utmost importance. And haven’t you had enough of him yet?”

Noctis arched, crying out when the man pulled out of him, leaving him to flop onto his side in exhaustion. Rufus happily slapped his buttocks, chuckling darkly as the king moaned and buried his face into the pillows. “Not nearly enough,” he answered with a smirk, kissing Noctis’s trembling thigh. “Now, what’s so important you had to interrupt us?”

The old man motioned for a chance to talk alone, beckoning him with a finger. Rufus complied, though resentfully hesitant to leave his king as he casually dragged his calloused hand along Noctis’s soft skin.

“What?”

The old man scoffed. “Quiet. I don’t want His Majesty hearing any of this…”

“So, what?”, he hissed.

“I had a chance to speak with Lord Scientia today, and the things he asked me were quite prying. He wanted to know when I last saw the king…”

Totally unaware that Noctis’s hearing had increased tenfold since being stripped of his vision, the king could make out almost every word the two men uttered. But he dared not make one sound, fearful of what they’d do if he engaged in their private conversation. He heard the old man mention Ignis, and tried to keep his tears from falling by taking some deep breaths.

Rufus snorted, slamming his boot against the hard floor. “Well, do the little bastards know where he is or not?”

“As of now, no. But they could be close if we let so much as one word slip. And I expect you to keep your hormones in check, Rufus,” Jonas demanded, nodding at Noctis, who had since fallen asleep. “If he ends up pregnant again… It could ruin everything.”

“I thought that was the whole idea,” he protested. “You said he needed to conceive of ‘royal’ blood, so what’s wrong with that? I’m royalty enough.”

“Just don’t ruin him, alright? I need him for my plans too, you know,” the old man added, heading for the doors. “Oh yes, and the king’s shield saw your little convoy a few weeks ago. Apparently they like to make a name for themselves wherever they go in Lucis… Try to keep them hidden, hm?”

“You’re payin’ ‘em,” he shot back, already beside Noctis on the bed again. He pulled him into his lap with ease, smoothing down his raven hair and then kissing under his chin. “Now, leave us be! I wanna get back to our lil’ endeavor…”

“Be easy on His Majesty, you savage.”

“Get outta here, you old bastard,” he mumbled against Noctis’s shoulder, his saliva slipping down his scapula. Noctis tried not to react to such lewd gestures as he awoke to Rufus’s broad hands moving over his hips and sliding down to his arse, squeezing and kneading as a baker would fresh dough to whip it into the perfect loaf. “All mine…,” he says, pressing rough fingers harder into his cheeks till they ached.

“Uhn,” Noctis groggily and involuntarily lolled his head, leaving his neck vulnerable to the man’s swift tongue and razor teeth as he latched himself onto his throat. “No, let me sleep… please, let me sleep.”

“But I’ve gotta have ya, you beautiful thing. Now sit still and be good.”

This was the last thing Noctis needed right now. Ten minutes of sleep could not be nearly enough for him to have the proper rest his body craved, but he realized that it was probably all he would get before this brutal ritual repeated itself. At the mere ghosting of Rufus’s hands, Noctis whimpered, wanting just to reel back and fall away from him to go crawl into some peaceful, dark corner.

It was never easy, and it never occurred without that gnawing shame in his mind. He was being made a fool of, a spectacle, a public plaything amongst these throngs of beastly men who seemed, at least in his mind, all too willing to make his shaming a personal goal for themselves. Every time he was touched, it ignited a spark in his soul that made him want to consent to such callous, invasive sex, fanning into a flame that grew higher and higher until he simply gave in and let himself be burned from the inside out.

He couldn’t place the reason for this desire. Maybe it was the way the man touched him, or perhaps just the way he reacted to his hands, expecting for him to follow through completely so his fleshly lusts would be satiated. Sometimes, Noctis wished he never knew what intimacy felt like. The soft caressing and exciting arousal of foreplay, the sharp increase of a steady heartbeat into rhythmic pounding, the hot, heavy breath that radiated comfort along his sensitive skin, the beautiful pressure that bloomed within him before his release, and the finality of his orgasm that sent him soaring in ecstacy.

But that wasn’t what THIS sex was like. This kind, he couldn’t say no. He couldn’t deny this, forced against his will to be fondled and groped almost every hour on the hour, taken and violated in the most secret of places.

The kind of sex he knew, came only from love.

And that’s how Noctis remembered it, but how could he not? The most passionate, enjoyable, fantastic love making he had was with Gladio. The thought of that hit him so hard, he feared he’d break into tears here in this man’s, this monster's arms.

His body, his heart, his soul… longed for Gladio’s touch, and it felt too intense, too hopeless for him to bear anymore.

In a valiant, but fruitless effort, he pushed the man away from him as he attempted to pick himself up from his lap. But his futile actions were met with a fierce bite on his neck, his yelp short and pained as blood trickled from the deep hickey on the side of his throat.

“Don’t resist me,” Rufus growled, laying Noctis back against the bed to crawl on top of him, pinning his arms on either side of his head. “Say it fer me. What did I tell you before I left?”

Noctis turned away from the man’s hot, sour breath. “Tell you what?”, he retorted.

A slap to the king’s already bruised face returned him to submission, his cheek red in prickling heat and stinging. “You remember, beauty. You remember just what I told you…,” the golden-eyed man said, carefully pulling a knife from the waist of his pants.

“Be a… good boy…?” How Noctis hated his voice for betraying him.

“Mm,” he hummed, like someone who had just eaten a delicious meal. “And is this any of that good behavior you promised me?”

“Depends on what you consider ‘good’,” his snarky reply actually gave the man a reason to smirk at his captive, lying helplessly beneath his giant shadow. “Could be I’m just playing on your ‘good’ mood.”

Rufus skillfully fingered the knife, his smirk forming a lewd grin that crossed the scar in his lips. “You’re a feisty thing, ain’t ya? Take after yer daddy?”

“Leave him out of this,” Noctis said suddenly, reaching up to touch the man’s gruff face. His beard felt thinner than Gladio’s, and a little fluffier. “I thought this was ‘us’ time.”

When he resorted to cooing at the man, Rufus all but blushed at the prospect, his ego rising to an all-time high. “I like that.” His grin grew wider, leaning into Noctis’s soft palm as he lowered his body even closer to the king’s, releasing his grip on his arm to curl his own under Noctis’s spine, cradling his smaller form. “You’ve got such a beautiful body, Majesty.”

He completely despised his decision to do so, but he felt that if he smiled, maybe there was a way out of this. Just maybe… he could convince him to take the blindfold off. So, he offered him a smile as a lover would their soulmate just before passionate intimacy, hoping against hope it would trigger some human kindness to finally surface in him. “Rufus,” he murmured softly, caressing the man’s scruffy cheek with gentle fingers. “It would really be nice if… I could see your face.”

Rufus sighed, chuckling as he thought about Noctis’s words. “Well, Majesty… I’d have to think about that one. But you know what would make ME happy?”

Noctis had but a second to respond before the tip of a knife was pressed to his throat and he gasped, the slightest knick tearing from the pressure. He strained to back away from it, but barely sunk an inch as the pillows pushed him into the sharp point again.

“You’d make me the happiest man in the world if you played along,” he breathed against his ear lobe, skimming it with his teeth before taking it and sucking on it. “Will you, beautiful?”

The gulp Noctis swallowed caused the knife to jerk against his thin, sensitive flesh, blood leaking from the tiny lesion. He winced, breathing heavily from his nose as a subtle whine left his clenched jaw. “W-wait… I-” He risked halting the hand that threatened his throat, grabbing Rufus’s wrist. “I… w-want to enjoy it this time,” he struggled to say, his voice trembling and thick with saliva. “Can we forget the knife?”

Rufus was never a man to agree well with anyone, not even himself. But for Noctis, he felt compelled to give in to him just once. Just this one time he would do as he was asked, ignoring everything but his primal urge to dominate something helpless. “Sure, Majesty. Anything fer you since you’re so damn beautiful,” he said sweetly, sheathing the knife inside his pants.

Ah! So that’s where he pulled the knife from, Noctis knew immediately by the ruffle of clothing at the withdrawal from his throat. He tried to discern exactly where he hid it on his person, listening hard for the direction of the rustle. If not, he’d have to wing it, feeling his way for it.

Even if that meant groping every single inch of the man’s sweaty, hairy body, an act Noctis was disgusted by, but absolutely necessary in the long run.

“So, you’ll let me touch you?”

At this, Rufus let out a deep chuckle. “Yeah, you can touch me. I want you to feel all of me, especially my little friend.”

Noctis didn’t have to see to know what the man meant, feeling his hard-on brush up against his own member as Rufus leaned in to take his mouth, forcing his tongue inside. Noctis snaked his arms across the man’s nape, moaning into the motion and making it seem like he was enjoying every second. He pulled away enough just to catch his breath, gasping,” Rufus!”

Rufus shifted his weight over Noctis’s waist, setting his toned legs on either side of his thighs as he invaded the wet, dripping mess of Noctis’s mouth that was their kiss. When Noctis slithered further under him, the man greedily rolled his hips and got him to groan as their solid, flying members slid across one another. “That’s it… Melt into me, beautiful…,” Rufus growled, trailing his saliva-coated tongue along the king’s abused neck flesh, licking at each hickey he had claimed him with.

Noctis leaned his head back, letting Rufus caress his throat with little, soft kisses, taking note of how gentle he was with his body when it was consensual. He caught the sound of a buckle being undone, the man’s pants and boxers off in a flash as he trailed further down to suck on Noctis’s left nipple, cupping his other breast and kneading it tenderly till he moaned again. “Uh, Rufus…” Pretty soon, Noctis’s member was flinging against Rufus’s stomach, twitching with pre-cum as the man’s own cock was placed just at Noctis’s entrance, impatiently throbbing for a thrust inside.

It was strange because for a moment, Noctis almost forgot why he had consented to this little romp with the man who threatened his very life. His lustful hormones began to overpower his good conscience, his body craving sex that was so loving, so gentle like he was back in the arms of someone he cherished, someone he loved. Just a glimpse of such a tender act was enough to momentarily blind him of his true intentions.

Right. He was giving into this for the sake of stealing that knife from its owner, but hadn’t he already discarded his pants? Fearful that he may have just jeopardized his only chance of escape, he snuck a hand off of Rufus’s neck, carefully feeling the floor for any piece of clothing as he grabbed a fistful of Rufus’s feathery locks with his other hand. “Rufus?”, he gasped out smoothly.

“Mm?”, he mumbled, entirely preoccupied with sucking off the king as he slid his tongue along the inside of Noctis’s thighs, kissing them roughly in haste. Noctis couldn’t help the wanton mewls that escaped his lips, desperately bucking up into Rufus’s hairy face.

“Take me… all of me,” he says breathlessly, his fingers ghosting the hem of Rufus’s pants beside them. “Please,” he added quickly, knowing how much that would please him to hear the weak trembling in his voice.

Rufus’s deep laugh sent pleasurable vibrations up his spine, his tongue licking at the flawless crevice between Noctis’s groin and thigh, making him arch. “Is that how you beg fer yer lover? The same way you’d beg fer me? Hot damn… am I the luckiest man in the world… Bet I’m twice as big as he is, so you better prepare yerself, baby.”

Noctis’s jaw set tight against the moans he was about to let slip, his scowl draining any intimate thoughts as Gladio was mentioned again. But he kept his anger inside, storing his emotional outburst for later as he gripped the pants, turning them over in his fingers to feel for different spots. Suddenly, he gasped sharply as Rufus brutally grabbed his free wrist, forcing Noctis to palm his hardened member.

“Whaddya think? Bigger than your lover, right?”

Mentally cursing this man with every bad word he knew in his vocabulary, he squeezed Rufus’s rock solid cock and shook his head. He was about to say no, Gladio being at least twice this man’s size, when he took a different approach. All he had to do was stroke this bastard’s ego, let him think he was a good little plaything, a willing lover for his sexual hour. “Yeah, much bigger. And a lot hairier too,” he replied, fisting the cluster of thick, brown hair growing around the base of his cock.

Rufus beamed, satisfied to the brim with that answer as he practically inhaled Noctis’s twitchy member, broad, calloused palms spreading the king’s thighs obscenely wide. Noctis yelped, the man’s large member thrusting into his opening at the same time, throwing him into dual unbearable pleasure.

Still, aside from being fucked and sucked on at once, Noctis had to focus on his task, shift all remaining energy in his body to search for that knife: his only hope of getting away from this torture and its procreator. Once more, he stretched his right hand back out to feel in the crumples of the pants, his other hand involuntarily gripping Rufus’s hair to push him down into taking more of his shaft. The man’s swift, gentle tongue felt incredible, intoxicating his senses as it enticed the sensitive nerves in Noctis’s stiff member, engorged with blood.

He prodded endlessly through the pockets and rumples of those pants, until he felt his knuckles brush against something hard and intricately shaped. He traced it with the back of his hand and sure enough, it lay just underneath his belt. Noctis’s core tightened then, every muscle contracting, his breaths quickening as he bucked violently into Rufus’s mouth and hips, feeling so close to keening for a double orgasm.

But he kept going, gripping the knife and reaffirming his grip as he flexed his fingers along the handle, holding steady. He couldn’t lose his strength now, he had to push through it. Even as tears pricked the corners of his bound blue eyes, he willed himself on. As soon as he came in Rufus’s mouth, his member finally void of that hot, white stickiness, he felt faint and weaker than before, but tightened his grip on that knife.

Rufus came off of him with a satisfied lick of his cum-stained lips, thrusting even faster and deeper into Noctis as he desperately fisted the sheets for release. “Majesty, you beautiful man… You are so gorgeous and you taste wonderful…”

Noctis attempted to steady his breaths, orgasm on the cusp of peaking as he shook and shuddered, arching up into the man’s firm, toned hips. Sweat rolled down his face, catching in his dark stubble before running down his bruised and bleeding throat. He had to do this now. Right now. There was no time left.

He steadied the knife in his grip, flipping it backwards in his palm and thrust it into Rufus’s ribs. A grunted gasp flew from the man’s mouth, Noctis stabbing over and over and over again till he felt limp above him and inside of him. His heart felt about to burst from its confines as he heard that deep drawl beside his head, those hands gripping his own in a paralyzing hold.

“You little bastard… You pathetic royal fuck! I’m bringing you to the gates of HELL for this!!”

Noctis froze for a pinch of time, regaining his composure and fighting against the pressure of fear in his soul as he stabbed Rufus deeper than before, yanking his left hand free to shove this mountain of a man off of him as his side gushed blood onto Noctis’s pale nakedness. Rufus clapped a hand to his ribs, shouting in pain as the knife got lodged inside unintentionally, Noctis twisting it to cause him greater agony as he made his escape.

“Kill him...! Kill the royal bastard!!” His golden eyes shut tight as he yelled in pain, collapsing over his chest.

Noctis fumbled out of Rufus’s reach, crawling as fast as he could away from this place. But his freedom was short-lived when he miscalculated his direction and fell down the cold, cobblestone stairs, his feeble body cracking numerous times as he tumbled hard. Finally, he reached the bottom, his horrible roll landing him on his back as he arched at the pain in his spine, his whole body bruised and worn from his fleeting attempt.

To his horror, he found he couldn’t move, and every time he tried to, a throbbing pain followed by piercing burning shot up his limbs. He wasn’t paralyzed, but was on the verge of being broken. But after all that, he couldn’t just give up. He needed to get away, he had to push with whatever he had left in himself to keep going. This was life and death, and he had to return alive.

No matter what it cost him in the end.

He writhed against his agonizing pain, flipping himself onto his belly to crawl away, only making it a few inches from where he landed before brutal hands grabbed him and forced him on his back again. He yelled, both in pain and in utter despair as he was pinned to the cold, hard floor, Rufus’s face once more mere centimeters from his.

He loomed over the king, presenting himself a death threat to Noctis as he breathed heavily on his face. “You,” he began, quietly and menacingly. “I’ll make you suffer eternally for this… Your little charade today, will cost you, ‘Majesty’.”

Noctis remained silent, pulling at his human restraints as he squirmed under this man. He knew that whatever Rufus had planned for him would come without mercy, his mind already understanding the trauma he would be left to endure. His heart soared, however, as he felt hands behind his head prying the blindfold loose.

“I wanna see those pretty eyes fer a minute,” he smirked, grabbing yet another blindfold out of one of the other men’s hands.

Then, it was flung off and the sudden, intrusive light burned even Noctis's eyelids. He was afraid to open his eyes, but if this was going to be his only chance to see the light of life again, why should he deny his soul of something so precious? Slowly and uncertain of his decision, he opened his crusted eyes and saw the blurry figure of Rufus before him, holding out the other blindfold to show him.

“Ah,” Rufus sighed contentedly. “There are those beautiful blues… but now, Majesty, I believe you deserve a little gift from me. Look.”

Noctis wearily squinted and saw a clean, white blindfold, witnessing Rufus cup some blood from his wound and smear it on the blindfold, staining it forever. He began gasping for breath as he closed in on himself, fearfully dreading that very thing again. “W-wait, no! No, no please! Please, no more blindfolds! I wanna see, please!”

“You do as WE say, Majesty,” Rufus almost shouted, sitting above Noctis’s breasts as he tied the bloodied blindfold tighter than the last one around his raven crown, blinding him once again. “And now, your punishment.”

It was dark. So dark and so… scary. Tears fell from his weak eyes, crying out for the return of his sight. “Please… please! Let me see! Please, let me see!”

“You deceived me. You tricked me into thinking you wanted me! What a sneaky little bastard you are! But-” He paused mid-breath, the gleam of Noctis’s silver engagement band meeting the gold in his eyes. He bent down and smoothed over Noctis’s knuckles, whispering to him. “You know, now that you belong to me, I, and everyone else here has gotta know it too! He doesn’t own you anymore, so you don’t need this either.”

Noctis gasped loudly as he felt Rufus roll his engagement band around his finger. Every ounce of courage he thought he had left vanished. He started to panic, this ring being the only thing tying him to the outside world. To Gladio. “I’ll be good! I’ll be good! I promise I’ll be good, please don’t!”, he cried, throwing his head back and forth as he struggled among the men holding him down.

Rufus attempted to pry his finger open to slide the ring off, but Noctis curled his fingers tight and wouldn’t let go. “Let go,” he demanded, pulling hard on his finger. “Let go!”

“I’ll be good! I‘ll be good! Please, don’t take it from me!!”

“LET GO!!”

One brutal flick of his grip on Noctis’s finger and Noctis screamed, his ring finger snapped and lay limp between his others. He cried freely, his tears pouring from his aching eyes.

Rufus chuckled darkly. “Now,” he forced, ripping the ring off of Noctis’s broken finger. He grabbed Noctis’s chin and held it firmly, holding the ring above his mouth. “Swallow it!”

Noctis’s desperate whine echoed through the room, bouncing against his own sensitive ears as his jaw was pulled open and the ring was dropped inside. He choked on it, almost spitting it back up before Rufus pressed over his throat and made him swallow the silver band.

“There,” he said, kissing Noctis’s fleeing tears away from his stubble. “Now, that he’s forgotten, you need something to remember ME by. Something… permanent.”

Noctis wept aloud, everything going dark even inside of himself.

 

》》》》》

“So, Gladdy,” Iris gave her brother her best smile, looking straight into the rearview mirror. “No news about Noct then, huh?”

Gladio solemnly shook his head, choosing to stay quiet about the matter. He didn’t feel up to going all emotional on them again, his heart felt much too vulnerable right now.

“And you guys have been searching for at least two weeks?”

“Yeah,” Prompto answered, watching Gladio’s face carefully. “We, uh, we haven’t even come close…” He shared a sympathetic grin with the younger Amicitia, her shoulder-length dark brown hair blown by the air conditioning in the truck.

She turned one of the vents away from herself, beginning to shiver. “I hope you guys know that everyone in Lestallum is working on trying to find him too. Cindy and Holly have contacted almost every hunter in Lucis to help, and many of them volunteered their own time after that… stupid broadcast.”

Gladio cleared his throat, both of his passengers leaning in to wonder if he was about to say something. But he continued his driving in silence, much to their dismay. He kept trying to distract himself by counting every other white line in the road, losing his place whenever either one of them spoke.

“Iggy’s been keeping things going steadily in his absence though,” Prompto said. “He really knows what he’s doing when it comes to politics and stuff like that.”

Iris nodded, tucking a strand of her dark auburn hair behind her pierced ear, her earring dangling against her hand. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad things aren’t quite as bad as I thought they were.”

Now, it felt awkward. The air in the cabin of the truck hanging heavily on all three of them as Gladio drove them back home. But it was no wonder they felt that way, things were so hectic without knowing where Noctis was. The worst of it falling on Gladio, not just because of his own accusations, but the people of Lucis also claimed he held a lot of the fault in the disappearance of their king.

Why, no one really understood. They just believed their close ties to one another bound them in all situations, good and bad. But one thing had nothing to do with the other, or so Gladio would like to think. In truth, he randomly justified their scapegoat, when they blamed him for failing to protect his king. Failure as shield was absolutely unacceptable, and Gladio couldn’t shake himself of that reality.

The reality that Noctis was missing and he had a part to play in it. If he could relive that night over again, he knows he wouldn’t have left Noctis’s side at all, staying with him right through the wee evening hours just to watch him as he had done always; guarding and protecting as per his duty, and the love that bound them together. When he would flop into bed, most times he’d just lie there in the dark and stare at his silver engagement band, the one thing that linked him to his king no matter where he was.

Of all the times in his life, he never left Noctis for a second. Always, he’d be close, keeping vigilant over his charge since he made his vow in the very beginning of their blossoming friendship. Noctis was his other half, his second skin, his partner for life; leastways, officially after the wedding, but they hadn’t made it that far yet, and Gladio wasn’t about to toss that dream away any time soon.

First, he had to come out of his shell. He had to quit blaming himself, and start encouraging himself to keep moving forward like the others have been trying to tell him. It was all worthwhile, everything he did, he did for Noctis. That, and he knows Noctis would berate him for placing all that guilt on his own shoulders.

He laughed.

“Gladdy?”

Gladio glanced back at his sister through the mirror. “Iris?”

“I’m so sorry about this whole thing,” she sniffed, placing a comforting hand on his firm shoulder. “You and Noct… You guys are so important to me, and I… I just wanna see you back together again, and happy, y’know? And the baby… I hope it’s as beautiful as you guys.”

Gladio tried to hide his smile, but failed. Prompto caught it as soon as it snuck into his gruff features, his own sunshiny smile greeting it. The big man wiped a tear from his cheek, giving Iris’s hand a pat back. “Thanks, Lil’ Sis. I’ll find him… I will. I promised him I would, and I’ve never broken a promise to him.”

“WE’LL find him,” Prompto corrected him kindly.

“Yeah, us… Together.”

A while into their drive brought them close to the Coernix Station in Duscae, but running dangerously low on fuel. Gladio always mentally cursed himself for not buying a car with good gas mileage.

“Gonna stop for some gas,” he said, pulling into the station.

“Great! That means snacks for the rest of the way home!”, the blonde exclaimed, taking every and any opportunity to snack on the road. His excuse being that driving made him both nauseous and hungry, a problem he never quite got over since he learned how to drive. “Wanna come pick something with me, Iris?”

Gladio scoffed. “30 years old, and you still can't make it through a drive without eating?”

“Hey, we’ve all got our vices!”

“Sure, Prompto,” Iris giggled. “Gladdy, use my card to pay for the gas.”

Gladio pushed her card back on her. “No way. I’m payin’ for my own gas, sis.”

“I insist,” she continued, grinning in that sweet Iris way that could tame coeurls… and big brothers. “Think of it as payback for driving me to Insomnia, okay?”

“Yeah, alright. But-”

“No buts! Just do it!” The two of them practically skipped into the shop, wandering about as they browsed the colorful shelves.

Gladio shook his head, smirking at the beautiful, smart young woman his little sister had grown into. He was proud of her, stepping up the way she had ten years ago, fighting off the daemons that slowly overtook their world. It was mostly because of her that so many people joined in the mission to bring the Light back and wait on the return of the Chosen King. She managed to convince the marshal to fight back, and they did just that for a whole decade without the sun to guide them.

Ever since they were kids, he could remember her looking up to him for inspiration and guidance. But here they were, years later, and Gladio found himself looking to her for that firm hope she always kept burning so brightly. He needed to lean on someone in these troubling times, HE needed his little sister to hold on to.

He knows their father was more than proud of both of his children. He made it known to them on so many occasions, even in his death. Gladio saw it in Iris’s face, in her smile, and in her spirit. Her spirit that never seemed to falter, even in the darkest of times.

Iris hopped back in the truck, slurping a strawberry smoothie as Prompto trudged over with a whole bag full of chips and crackers and quick dessert items, complete with a giant milkshake to guzzle it all down. Gladio often wondered how he stayed so thin and lean, twisting the gas cap back in place and grabbing his receipt.

But as he walked back to the front of the truck, he saw that same black van convoy turning down the road toward Wiz Chocobo Post, catching some of the sunken faces of the people inside. Something inside of him sparked, urging him to follow them despite the possible danger it presented. He felt pulled by some unknown force inside of him to go after them.

Safe to say, he didn’t ignore that feeling. He jumped into the driver’s seat, quickly turning the key and stomping on the accelerator pedal. He whipped out of that parking lot like a mad man, Prompto and Iris shouting at him as their food flew all over the floor.

“Aw! Well, there goes the milkshake… all over Gladio’s nice, clean upholstery,” he chuckled, gripping the dashboard for dear life as the older man sped past 80 mph. “Gladio! What the heck, dude?!”

“Gladdy! What are you doing?! You’re going too fast! We’re gonna crash!” She shook his arm, attempting to get some logical answer out of him as to why they were riding in a metal death trap. “Gladdy!!”

“Hang on, guys…” In the back of his mind, he knew this was leading them somewhere. Somewhere they needed to be, for something of grave importance. That caravan was just too suspiciously common around here, his heart told him. And for the first time in a long, long time, he was running on pure emotional direction rather than sensible reasoning.

After about thirty minutes of worried shouts and angry words towards Gladio, they passed the sign for Leirity Seaside, heading further toward the ocean front. But he hadn’t lost sight of that convoy, following steadily behind it all the way, still making sure they kept a safe distance.

Eventually, they crossed a bridge built over the Hulldagh Pike, leading them straight toward Cape Shawe, a stretch of land way out into the midst of the sea. None of them had ever been there before, but they had heard it was a beautiful place to visit and great for fishing, if you could withstand such blustery conditions every single day. The caravan drove on and on, and so did Gladio. His thoughts were consumed by this chase, thinking of nothing but to find out who these people were and what the hell they were doing in Lucis.

“Gladdy!”, Iris yelled, unable to distract him one bit. “Where the hell are you going?! We’re almost out of gas again! What’s going on in that head of yours?!”

“Yeah, big guy! I mean, I’m all for scenic drives, but this is a little much! Iggy’s waiting back home!”

“Gladdy?!”

He focused on his driving, finally slowing with the convoy as they pulled into a sharp turn, driving along a shallow cliffside. Large boulders and tiny pebbles danced off the edge from the rumble of heavy wheels pounding on the gravel and unsteady road, Gladio keeping the truck as close to the rock wall as possible.

Iris’s brown eyes went wide, holding on with white knuckles to the headrest of Gladio’s seat as she dug her black fingernails into the fabric. “Gladdy! Turn back, please! I’m scared! Where are you taking us?!”

“Uh, Gladio?” Prompto eyed those falling rocks as if every one of them had death written all over their stony faces. “You trying to get us killed?!”

The heavens opened and rain showered everything under the hot blaze of the afternoon sun when they came to a stop just before the convoy parked behind a large seaside warehouse. Gladio backed up just enough to where they were hidden from any other eyes, sitting on a cliff overlooking the warehouse roof.

He turned the truck off and slowly stepped out, crouching behind a large enough boulder to hide his massive frame. He sat there watching as these men, dressed like hunters, filed out of the black vans with rifles tucked under their arms. The breeze smelled sour of saltiness, the ocean just a hop, skip and jump away from him.

Iris came over beside him, slapping his bare, tattooed arm. Her voice rang way too loud throughout the vicinity. “Gladdy, the hell are you-”

“Shhhh!”, he shushed her, pulling her close into him. “Stay quiet!” He pointed down at the men, Iris covering her mouth when she caught sight of the guns, clearly loaded.

“Gladdy? Who are they? And what are they doing with those guns?”

“Gladio? Iris?”, Prompto whispered, crawling over to them. “What is it? What do you see?”

Gladio motioned his head down at them, his face forming an extremely displeased frown. “Saw them two weeks ago,” he murmured. “They were driving toward Cleigne then too. Never seen anything like this…”

Most of the 60 or so men entered the warehouse, while a couple others stood guard by the road, rifles slung over their shoulders to be ready whenever. They were making casual conversation, a few chuckles here and there, but the three couldn’t quite make out exactly what they said.

This was just too unusual in Gladio’s mind: lots of men with rifles in black vans, travelling all over the place? It just wasn’t normal, and the mysterious way they carried themselves with that sulking gait gave them away to some degree. And a large gathering of men just doesn’t happen out of blue like that, but when it does, it’s most likely for something big. ...Or important.

Important… like a king.

Gladio sighed, frustrated and angered by this indefinable sight. “Guys, this is not normal. Men don’t just gather around like this and stand guard for no reason. They have something they’re hiding…”

“Or protecting, maybe?”

Prompto squinted, hoping to see their faces clearer. “No,” he reaffirmed for Iris. “Definitely hiding. Look at the way they skulk around… People who protect are a lot more stone faced, like Gladio.”

She let out a small squeak as she leaned in closer to her brother. “Gladdy,” she whispered softly. “You don’t think…”

“I was,” he growled. “It’s something pretty important if they need so many bastards for one job.”

“Important… like Noct,” she finished, almost in tears.

“What? Guys, what? You think they have Noct? But why?”

“Prompto, think about it,” Gladio said, sitting on the balls of his feet now. “Noct is king. If they didn’t have him, why would they go to such lengths to keep him hidden?”

“Gladio,” Prompto could tell what his larger friend was thinking, what his next action would be. “Gladio, don’t. Don’t.”

Iris glanced nervously between her two friends. “What? Gladdy, what are you…”

Her answer came when Gladio summoned his blade and made for the downhill slope beside the boulder to sneak his way around the back of the building. Without another word, he began his descent as quietly as possible, Prompto rushing after him and latching onto his shoulder.

“Gladio! Stop, wait!”

Gladio tried to shrug him off, but was met with greater force. “Prompto, I have to do this. I have to know if they have him!”, his voice full of urgency and the need for the presence of a loved one.

“But even if they do have Noct, and you’re not even sure they do, how are you gonna take on more than 60 freakin’ guys all at once?! They’ll kill you! And then what?”

“I’ll-”

“No,” Prompto pleaded, his blue eyes flashing a signal of danger and compassion for his friend. He understood completely Gladio’s desire. “Please, Gladio… We need you, and if Noct really is in there, we can come better prepared another day with Ignis and the marshal and… Please? Don’t kill yourself.”

Gladio looked back at him, noticing the tears shimmering in the blonde’s bright blues. He fought back his own, feeling the closeness of Noctis more than ever here. He had to be in there, he just had to be. Surely, with a bond as strong as theirs he couldn’t be wrong about this? Reluctantly, he allowed Prompto to pull him back up the hill and toward the truck, wrapping an arm around Iris’s trembling form.

“Gladdy?” She stared into his bright coppers with her soft browns, her cheeks stained with tears. “Please… Don’t ever leave like that again. You frightened me, dammit!”

“I… won’t, Iris,” he assured her, climbing into the backseat with her as Prompto slowly pulled away from the cliff. “I’m right here, I promise.” He stroked her longer brown locks, attempting to calm them both.

There, on that cliff, he was closer to his Noctis than he could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Iris looking so pretty at 25. Better than her 15 year old self...
> 
> Noctis, you beautiful man... I'm so sorry I'm keeping Gladio from finding you still...
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on this chapter when you've dried your tears, my friends ;)


	10. And If the Sun Doesn't Rise Tomorrow...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, wow. I believe this story is finally nearing its end, maybe one or two more chapters left, but it won't truly be the end! In the wake of trying to organize and reorganize over and over again, I've decided that this will be a series of two stories.
> 
> So, there will be a good ending and a bad ending. When Noctis is rescued, that's when I will start my next story in the series... whenever that may be. Bad ending will be first in the sequel, and then the good. In the great tradition of SE with Episode Ignis! XD
> 
> I'm terrible at writing torture sequences... I'm sorry, I hope you can picture what I tried to show you.

Chapter 10

 

 That sinking feeling followed Gladio all the way back to Insomnia, and he had to resist the urge to tell Prompto to spin the truck around into a u-turn. If Noctis truly was being held against his will, guarded by all those men with rifles, weakened especially by his pregnancy, why was Gladio driving away from him? Why was he  _ leaving _ him behind? Prompto clearly reasoned against the shield’s rash actions, and he really had no other choice but to listen.

 

 And then those thoughts came running back into his mind. What did they want with him? Who were they? Imperials? But the empire had fallen more than a decade ago, so then… Could they be Lucians? Maybe stragglers of the Niflheim-Lucis war? He frustrated himself, making it known to his fellow passenger and driver as each thought came to a close with verbal grunts and grumbles.

 

 “I just thank the gods Prompto was there, Gladdy,” Iris said after moments of unsettling silence. “Do you know what could’ve happened if you had gone down there?! They would’ve killed you!”

 

 Gladio draped an arm across her shoulders, but didn’t reply. He stared blankly out the window, still lost in his thoughts. He didn’t even notice his sister trying to grab his attention by poking her head in his direction.

 

 She waved a hand in his face. “Gladdy? Gladdy, don’t you have ANYTHING to say?!”

 

 Prompto’s hands fell slack just a bit on the steering wheel, Iris’s frightened and angry tone making him very uneasy. He was just as upset and distraught as his taller friend. “Hey… Iris? Could you, um… not be so loud?”

 

 Still, Gladio didn’t acknowledge his sister’s fingers fanning out in front of his face. Instead, he checked on his mental calendar. Today marked day 25 that Noctis had gone missing - or rather kidnapped, as they had just found out.  _ Possibly  _ kidnapped. There was no way to tell for sure. Almost a month had gone by without their king, and everything clued them in to a dead end regarding his whereabouts or what the hell happened to him.

 

 He pushed down and pulled up on the door lock, careening a bittersweet smile as he remembered how good life felt when Noctis entered his second month of pregnancy. The times of that month when he’d awake in the middle of the night to find Noctis standing by the mirror clad in only Gladio’s huge button-up shirt, smoothing over his tiny bump with shaky fingers. He would crawl out of the length of their king size bed and quietly pad over to him, a mile-wide grin on his scarred face as he rested his chin over his king’s shoulder and wrapped his huge arms across his growing belly.

 

 “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”, he would ask, voice low and sleepy, yet still husky enough for a round of romping; if they both weren’t so dog-tired.

 

 Noctis shivered from the contrast of Gladio’s heat warming his cold form. “Mm, not much,” he says softly, eyes captured by the city glow from the window reflecting across his small belly swell, revealed only by a few buttons undone at the bottom. “I just hope this isn’t a dream. I mean, that I’m actually gonna have a  _ baby _ …, y’know?”

 

 Gladio chuckled, hands shielding Noctis’s. “Considering it’s full of morning sickness, I think it’s safe to assume this ain’t a dream, Noct.”

 

 “Well, yeah, that’s true,” he laughed in reply. “It’s just…” He placed his hands over his lover’s giant knuckles and squeezed, leaning back against his broad, bare chest. “Remember when Cor told me about the day I was born? How when my dad held me… he remarked how happy he looked?” Gladio hummed, holding him tighter. “I wanna see that same happiness in  _ your _ eyes… when you get to hold our baby,” he looked up into those warm, shiny coppers. “It would mean the world to me.”

 

 Gladio kissed the top of his head, smoothing it with his scruffy cheek. “You will, Noct. You’ll get to see our whole lives so far in my eyes when it arrives… I’ll be beside you through it all. And I’ll be the best damn father this world has ever known.”

 

 “I hope so… But will you be okay in the delivery room? This is one time you won’t be able to protect me from pain and suffering.”

 

 “I’ll manage, baby. I vowed to stand by you through everything, y’know. As long as I get to hold your hand, I’ll make it.”

 

 “And the diapers?” He turned around and poked playfully at his abs.

 

 “What about ‘em?”

 

 “You’ll be in the running with my dad if you change them all,” he teased, unable to control his laughter. Gladio scooped him up and brought him back over to the bed, placing him gently on his back and crawling over him, smiling. “Maybe tied for first place?”

 

 “Nope. I’m aiming for champion status,” he whispers, locking their lips in a deep, tender kiss. “No offense to your dad…”

 

 And when they finish their twilight romp, Gladio flops back onto his side of the bed, exhausted. Noctis laughs softly, lifting his lover’s arm and snuggling under it close to his warmth. He presses a kiss to Gladio’s tattooed shoulder and rests his head on his chest, sighing contentedly as he listens to his steady heartbeat that comforts him like nothing else can in the whole world.

 

 He feels Gladio’s chest rumble with deep, sleepy laughter as he pulls him closer. Noctis brings a hand to slide over his ribs, clinging to him. “What’s funny?” Noctis asks.

 

 Grumbles tickle his ear before Gladio responds. “I’m just thinking back to when we first made love…” The shield sighs, kissing Noctis’s flattened dark hair. “You were so afraid.”

 

 Noctis huffs. “So were you, babe.” A kiss to his lover’s nipple, making him shiver. “You cried, ‘member?”

 

 “Only ‘cause you did,” he whispers, turning over and pulling him into his chest. Noctis hums ‘mm-hm’, nudging his tender embrace.

 

 “Gods, I love you so much…”

 

 “Same here, beautiful,” he mumbles, falling asleep to the lulling sound of Noctis’s giggles...

 

 He wanted those days returned to him.

  
  


 》》》》》

 

 Exhausted beyond words, Ignis shuffled out of the meeting hall with his hand over his eyes. Never before had he felt so defeated, so unwanted in matters concerning the prince, now the king; and where Noctis was considered, he made it his sworn duty to uphold the rationale behind those decisions.

 

 But today, he was outnumbered. In so many words, they told him his opinion was invalid and  _ unnecessary _ . Their meeting had come to a unanimous choice, and one that would never sit well with the entire city of Insomnia. Ignis would have pressed the issue further, but found that he just didn’t have the strength to argue.

 

 Given any other day on which the king was physically present and safe, the advisor would be anything but lenient. 

 

 He sighed once more as he headed for his own quarters when the marshal approached him, appearing hopeful.

 

 “Any luck?”

 

 He picked his head up and attempted a smile. “Ah, marshal - have you heard anything from Gladio or Prompto yet?”

 

 “Not yet. I just finished briefing the Glaives and the new Crownsguard recruits about our next move, whatever that may be. I told them you were busy on that as we spoke… so, how did it go?”

 

 “They were adamant,” he says, adjusting his suspenders and snapping them higher up on his shoulders. “They refuse to wait any longer, suggesting we find a regent as soon as possible. Though loathe as I am to admit it, my duties are too innumerable to fill in for His Majesty, marshal.”

 

 “I understand,” Cor nods. “A regent could help to regulate the tension considerably… but I’m afraid it wouldn’t bode well for any of us, especially the people.”

 

 “Right…” Feeling more insignificant than ever, Ignis longs to have the chutzpah to stand up to the royal council to plead his case. For Noctis. But he just couldn’t, his well-being so fragile since the king’s disappearance. “The people come first, of course…” A break in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by the marshal.

 

 Cor steps closer to place his hand on Ignis’s shoulder, brows furrowed with concern. “Ignis, are you feeling alright? You sound exhausted.”

 

 “I am,” he admits, fixing his visor. “Yet, I can’t bring myself to sleep. These recurring nightmares keep me awake at night… and just the knowledge that Noct is missing is troubling to my mind, to say the least.”

 

 “I suppose we all feel the same, Ignis. But please, don’t exhaust yourself so much that you cannot function properly. We need you.”

 

 “I know…” He leans against the wall and rubs his temple between his thumb and forefinger, yawning. “I just wish things were a little easier… It feels as if everything has been on a track to destruction, and we’re only free-floating in the shrapnel.”

 

 “Try to remember you’re not alone in this fight, Ignis. We are all here beside you,” he offers him a fine grin, regardless of the younger man not able to see it. He can sense it, the friendliness of it, and it pairs perfectly with the familiar authority in his tone. “Noctis will be found, and I will not rest until he is.”

 

 “Vigilant as ever, marshal,” Ignis smiles in reply. “Thank you, that we can always count on you.”

 

 Just then, a Crownsguard recruit comes racing down the hall toward the two men, out of breath and nearly toppling over. “Marshal, sir. Lord Scientia,” he bows,  “Lords Amicitia and Argentum have returned, Lady Iris as well.”

 

 “There’s our cue card,” Cor remarks, and Ignis laughs.

  
  


 》》》》》

 

 Iris jumped out of the truck and ran to embrace Ignis even before he made it down the steps of the Citadel. She held him tight and started crying again. “Oh, Ignis,” she sobbed, “We made it… we made it home!”

 

 Ignis hugged her back hesitantly. “Iris, what on earth…?” He heard heavier steps approaching and lifted his head toward Gladio and Prompto’s sullen forms before them. “What is going on?”

 

 She buried her tear-stained face inside his jacket. “I was so afraid he’d go… He’d be dead!” She couldn't speak anymore as she wept louder, Prompto’s hand coming to rub her back.

 

 “Well…,” Prompto started, but winced and dropped his words. “Gladio can tell you.”

 

 “I saw ‘em, Iggy,” Gladio said lowly.

 

 “Saw who?”

 

 “Those black vans. So, I followed ‘em, and you know what we found?”

 

 Cor sighed, disappointed. “You mean that same mysterious convoy that’s been trailing through Lucis for months now? Please don’t tell me you approached them?”

 

 “Even better,” the shield said. “We found where the bastards are camped out.”

 

 “A-and they had rifles!” Iris shouted as Ignis shushed her and patted her hair. The look on his face was not pleased at all.

 

 “You had a mind to follow these people?! What if you had been killed?”

 

 “Yes,” the marshal interjected, “and what is so important about them that you risked such a fatal move?”

 

 “They have Noct.”

 

 Everyone fell silent. It was what all of their hearts were desperate to hear for so long. And though Ignis gasped in great shock and joy, Cor stood opposed and a lot more skeptical of this news.

 

 He stepped forward, patting Iris’s shoulder before he addressed Gladio’s assumption. “Are you sure, Gladio? How do you know?”

 

 “Marshal, there were too many of them,” he says. “They’re out on Cape Shawe, in a warehouse by the ocean. There were close to 60 men all armed with rifles, and they looked like they were trying to keep something inside… something important.” His confident gaze spoke the truth, but the marshal still wasn’t convinced. In truth, it was never easy to convince Cor the Immortal; seeing was believing to him. “Trust me, Cor. I wouldn’t tell you all this if I didn’t believe it myself. I know they have to have him.”

 

 The aging new general of the Kingsglaive rubbed his chin stubble. “I can’t say I believe you just yet,” he said hesitantly, unsure of his subordinate’s explanation. “But even if they did have His Majesty, what do you propose we do about it? We can’t exactly storm a warehouse full of armed men.”

 

 “Why not?”

 

 Iris ran up to her brother and slapped his arm again. “Gladdy,” her voice still quivering with tears. “You can’t do this!”

 

 He turned to her, rubbing his sore arm. “I can, Iris, and I will. I’ll do whatever I have to for Noct, even if I almost get killed doing it.” He faced all of his other friends again, watching Prompto’s face, Ignis’s, and finally, the marshal’s. “They’ll regret ever taking Noct away from me,” he burned, starting toward the Citadel gates when he felt a shaky, gloved hand grab hold of his shoulder.

 

 “Gladio,” Ignis’s soft voice spoke. “Please, you cannot do this alone. Give us some time to come up with a plan, and we’ll go together.”

 

 He felt so heavy. He didn’t want to be told this again, to stay and wait while Noctis was probably being tortured to death; or worse. And the baby… He didn't even want to visit that dark of a place yet. It actually physically hurt to know that Noctis was out there, and for the brief amount of time he stood so close to him, that knowledge caused even more pain in that he knew there was nothing he could do for him. At least, not while he had everyone else holding him back. He could care less for his own safety, let alone if he died or not. Just as long as Noctis was safe along with the rest of Lucis.

 

 That’s what he vowed to do once, right? Protect Noctis, his king, through good times and bad? Shield him in health and in weakness? Guard him on his way, and if that way was a canyon falling into utter darkness, be the bridge he’d cross to keep walking no matter what? Even if he were left behind and forgotten, left for dead?

 

 “I’ve gotta go, Iggy.”

 

 Ignis gripped tighter as the shield began walking away from him. The voice Gladio had used was one he had heard only once before: when he was sure death was imminent, and hope had deserted them. “Gladio, I-”

 

 He whipped around, breaking contact. “Iggy, let me,” his voice calm and so eerily patient. The normally raving fire in his honeyed eyes was hushed to only a flicker of passion and quiet determination. “Noctis is all I can see, hear, taste, and  _ feel _ ! Iggy, I can  _ feel  _ him, like the beginning of a damn amazing orgasm!”

 

 “Gladio, I’m not saying you shouldn't or can’t go. I just want-” He shifted to grab Gladio’s shoulder again, but the older man avoided his touch.

 

 “Noct will die if I don’t!”

 

 Suddenly, a shot rang out and froze everyone to their places, until they moved to duck on instinct. His ears went numb, as did the rest of his senses for a moment. His mind tried to process exactly what just happened, but even as he watched all of his friends start to pick each other up, he found himself unable to move or speak. His hearing finally came back after mere seconds, the ringing lessening and he began to understand what it was that had paralyzed them all when he heard Iris scream.

 

 “IGNIS!”

 

 He looked down at his friend. Ignis was crouched low to the asphalt, clutching his abdomen as blood pooled beneath his shirt and his jacket, soaking through and coating his hand. His breaths were ragged and compromised, each exhale harder than the last. Prompto raced for his side as Ignis struggled to stand, Cor right behind him.

 

 “Promp...to, they… he, up there,” he groaned then, pointing above the gated arch, where four Crownsguard were already trained on that area searching for the perpetrator.

 

 Prompto helped him to his feet, supporting his arm across his shoulders. “It’s okay, Iggy, you’re gonna be okay! We need to get you inside! Marshal!”

 

 “He’s gone,” Cor says, sheathing his blade and sounding a thousand miles away to the shield. “Whoever the bastard was, we’ll find him again. But right now, Ignis needs our full attention.”

 

 Gladio came up fast beside his two friends and picked Ignis up, cradling him as they all rushed inside. 

  
  


 》》》》》

 

 The medical staff had been treating Ignis for the last couple hours, and still, there was no news on his condition. The wait was longer than they expected, and with each passing second, the marshal feared once they heard the news, it wouldn’t be good. He gathered the three younger ones together and tried his best to keep his emotions at bay, even as Iris clung to her brother like the world was coming to an end.

 

 Well, it kinda was.

 

 Cor cleared his throat before he spoke, trying to swallow the steadily growing lump. “I just want you all to know… I don’t believe Ignis will make it through this.”

 

 Prompto’s eyes shot open. “What?! Why?! What did they tell you, marshal?”

 

 He signalled for the blonde to lower his voice. “Please, Prompto, just hear me out.”

 

 “Cor.”

 

 The marshal glanced up at the captain, staring blankly out the impressive picture window. But he didn’t vocally acknowledge him. His eyes gave Gladio all the attention he needed.

 

 “Iggy…” He took a deep breath. “He’s… They shot him. I know they did.”

 

 Cor looked away. “You believe that convoy had something to do with this?”

 

 “Not the convoy. Those fuckers at the warehouse. They must’ve sent one ahead to target Iggy for some reason, and when I find out,” he clenched his fists and let out a grunt. “There will be  _ hell _ to pay.”

 

 Gladio’s dangerous clarification rang true with the marshal at last. And with the current state they were in, how much longer could he refuse to believe and act on that? He stood up, a willowing shell of a man, but still as strong as ever, and beckoned for Gladio to follow him. “Shall we discuss this at length, ‘Captain’?”

 

 Ah, a smile on the marshal’s face.

 

 The poise and grace with which Gladio stood left Iris and Prompto to wonder how these things were possible in such a big, burly man with less of a sense of patience than anyone. He seemed so in control, so sure of himself now. “I’m listening, Cor,” he said, earning a smile from the blonde and half of a sad one from his sister. “Just tell me what we have to do…”

  
  


 》》》》》

 

 He was shoved up against the wall, bruised and hardly able to breathe. His hand still throbbed from the shooting pain of his broken finger, the same finger that once held his engagement band. Now, that precious piece of silver was lodged somewhere inside of him. He wasn’t fully aware of  himself at this point, and the only thing he knew was pain. It flooded him, made every movement agony. And his captors pushed him further.

 

 He cursed his stupid idea. What kind of a fool thinks like he did? Steal a knife and simply jab it into the man who strung his life up by a thin strand, and hope to crawl away peacefully like home was just a couple feet from where he was? It was probably one of the stupider things he’s ever done, if not the stupidest in his mind.

 

 This was all his fault. It had been going well until he grabbed the knife. Rufus actually believed him about wanting to enjoy their sex, as disgusting and immoral as it felt and completely was. Now, there would be no escape. 

 

 As if there really was one to begin with.

 

 “No, no, please! Wait!” He yelled as one of the men yanked him away and turned him around, pushing his breasts up against the wall. The soreness increased tenfold, feeling like his mounds might fall off if possible.

 

 “Who you pleading to, Majesty?” He breathed way too close to his ear. “Me or our boss? ‘cause you won’t get sympathy from either one of us.”

 

 He hoped if he called out for their boss, it might make a difference. Pleading had its perks, but begging for mercy might seem a little more desirable. “Rufus?”

 

 A swift kick to the back of his knees brought him down to them. “Shut up,” the same man ordered.

 

 “W-where is he?”

 

 His hair was pulled and he was thrown to the floor, whimpering heavily. “Rufus ain’t here right now, Majesty,” another said, straddling his back and snapping a leather collar around his throat. “After what you did to him, you better hope your ass is prettier than your mouth. Otherwise, he’ll let us beat you senseless.”

 

 “As long as we want!” They all joined in with another guy’s laughter as Noctis was ripped off of his belly by the leash, forced to pant on his knees. “He'll give us free ‘reign’ on the king’s punishment!” The laughter turned into a roaring, two more men kicking at his sides. The cracks he’d heard from the beating weren’t all in his head; some of his ribs were definitely broken.

 

 They beat him into submission until he was writhing on his back, horribly painted black and blue all over. Pain consumed his battered body and made him scream as the attacks continued, relentless and merciless. Every time he tried to shield one part of his body, they’d come up to him and hold him down so they could purposefully ravage on it, his cries meaning nothing to the cruelty in their hearts. But it wasn’t just the physical pain, it was the words they spat at him. The things they said to him were just as savage as their fists.

 

 He heard them call him ‘whore’, ‘worthless’, ‘royal, wanton ass’... The list went on and on. And pretty soon, Noctis was just about to give up and let his pain blacken what little light he had in hopes of ever returning home in one piece. But then there were the men who teased him, calling him things like, ‘sugar’, ‘beautiful’: their boss’s personal favorite. ‘Sweet thing’, and their attacks would become lesser and lighter. In the end, he hated them all. He hated this place, and he hated them.

 

 He overlooked one tiny thing, however. These men, these  _ monsters _ … were his people. They were Lucians, people that belonged to his kingdom and swore to protect Lucis and uphold its natural beauty and fair laws. In the back of his mind, he had to rid himself of such hateful thoughts and somehow convince his heart to forgive them and accept his fate. His fate… it wasn’t his to master, and it probably never would be as long as he lived. To forgive these disgusting, vile, wretched people was unthinkable; impossible, Noctis thought. 

 

 Forgiveness was the last thing he wanted to think about.

 

 His hands ached, burned for the chance to get payback. Not so much for revenge, but if only to snake his fingers around one of their necks and squeeze as hard as his broken wrist and finger would allow, just to make them feel as bad as he did. He was grateful for the surge of wisdom he had gained from his ten years asleep in that Crystal, preparing for his ascension to his rightful place on the throne. Such a virtue helped him to reason better within himself.

 

 To reason without killing.

 

 Then they forced him onto his hands and knees and had one man call to him, beckoning him to come with the most sickening coo. 

 

 “C’mon, sweet thing, come over here. C’mon! Be a good boy!” 

 

 Like a pathetic dog, the king sat on all fours, naked, and without an ounce of the dignity he was born with. That collar tethered to his hickie-littered throat, chafed his Adam’s Apple and caused every swallow to feel painful. He bit his lip, trying his hardest to ignore the sniggers rapping against his hypersensitive eardrums as he crawled weakly over toward the voice.

 

 “Mm, what a sight, eh, boys?” He tugged on the leash a little, hoping to tease the irritation at Noctis’s sore throat all the while enticing his own perverted kinks.

 

 “I’ll say,” his buddy responded, stomping just behind his feet. “Kings are supposed to serve, ain't they?”

 

 “I wanna be served!” This man tapped the king’s ass, calling to him as he freed his sproingy cock. “Hey, this way! I’ve got a nice, big bone for you to suck on, ‘Majesty’~”

 

 “Hey, me first! I had my eyes on him since day one!”

 

 “No way! He needs a man who’s gonna be gentle with him, don’t ya, Highness?”

 

 In that moment, a firm tug made his neck snap and his vision go blurry as he lurched forward. Then he felt sick all of a sudden as he picked himself up off the floor. It was a strange gurgling in his stomach, a queasy bouncing in his head that urged him to throw up. It felt so familiar, like something that was once lost was now trying to find its way back to Noctis.

 

 And he did throw up. He heaved on his hands and knees, hunched over as his stomach muscles contracted, gut wrenching and twisting. He attempted to catch his breath in between the gag reflexes, but his terrible heaving overwhelmed any other movement. His body seemed like it was trying to rid itself of some foreign substance while whatever it was fought against it to settle inside the ill, feeble king.

 

 After he had emptied himself of that awful waste, they resumed their torture session right where they left off. Kicking, hitting, pulling, shoving, pushing, yanking… No one could count how many times he cried stop, trapped in this endless cycle of physical abuse.

 

 Until a gun was fired and Noctis yelped, startled by the horrible clanging in his overstimulated ears. He sat up on his knees till someone kicked him and he fell on his breasts, breaths heavy with exhaustion and the pain that was hellbent on swallowing him whole. A hand, wrinkled and dry, reached down and gently held up his chin. He wanted to see so desperately…

 

 “Noctis,” a voice hummed, a bit strangled and raspy. He knew who it was and ironically, thanked the gods for this man finally delivering him from these heartless, vile pigs. “My dear king… what have they done to you?”

 

 Noctis didn’t speak, he couldn’t find any words. He just held his body up as best he could and tried to breathe evenly as the old man thumbed his chin and continued to purr sweet, meaningless words into his ear.

 

 “My word, Rufus certainly had his way with you, hasn’t he?” He leered at his broken finger, all of his magenta-colored bruises, and every deep mark of sexual abuse and dominance. “Don’t worry your pretty, royal head fit for a crown, Highness, I’ll take excellent care of you from now on. He’ll only watch from afar.”

 

 Noctis coughed, choking back his tears. “Please,” he said, and couldn’t help how weak and helpless he sounded. “Please, let me go… I can’t take anymore.”

 

 “Noctis, I am disappointed in you. Don’t you remember what I told you? I won’t release you until you have learned everything, and you are only just beginning to understand who a king is and what he must accomplish for his people!”

 

 “But I-” He was pulled off of his hands and pushed and held against the wall, arms crushed at his sides. He let out a pained whimper, his stomach nauseous and flipping again. And that’s when he heard that horrid rattle of the chains they beat him with before. “Wait- wait, please!”

 

 “Nothing to fret over, Majesty,” the old man assured him, dragging the chain length along the backs of his thighs. “We won’t use the chain.”

 

 Noctis tensed up when the chain, cold and hard, brushed against his legs. Then a whip struck him  across his back, his head flinging back as he cried out in pain.

 

 “Yes, yes,” the old man nodded approvingly. “Perfect. Again, boys.”

 

 It stung, and it burned. His whole back felt like it was melting, and his deathly screaming might have made someone believe it. He was whipped over and over again, each strike purposefully aimed adjacent to the carved mark along his spine. Even as he fell to his knees they beat him harder, the whip hammering his cuts and bruises from weeks of torture. Despite the reluctance to anger them any more, the pain was so unbearable that Noctis had to get away- he had to escape. He clawed at the floor and tried to crawl away, panting like he was drowning and aching for breath.

 

 But they pulled him right back over to the wall and threw him against it, the blood from his back splattering across the wood planks. He fell face first to the floor, crying and screaming as they continued slaughtering his flesh. He was in so much pain, he didn’t even know if he felt himself anymore. He felt like he was watching himself from the outside, almost as if someone had lent him their eyes. An out-of-body experience- and one that he’d have no qualms about refusing.

 

 He just wanted to go home.

 

 “Jonas…” His strangled voice gurgled in tears, another scream following after and it sounded a bit feral, almost like an old, lost cat crying out for someone to pick it up and cuddle it close. “Jonas?”

 

 “Enough.”

 

 He let his head droop in grateful disbelief, lying still. His lungs burned and felt close to collapsing, and he was sure they would have if the old man hadn’t knelt down, picked him up by his arms and laid him across his lap in rest finally. He looked up into what would have been his eyes and drooled blood and saliva as he waited for him to say something, whimpering as both bone and muscle groaned in agony.

 

 The old man ran soothing fingers through his greasy hair, almost petting him. “Tell me, Noctis,” he says softly, rubbing over his limp finger. “What are you most afraid of? Death? The dark? Weakness? Be honest now, my sweet king.”

 

 The king lay there breathless. Even just one word would have taken so much more out of him, and he couldn’t spare that strength now. He found himself nuzzling into the old man’s robes in some sort of pathetic attempt to comfort his pain. He didn’t mean to, but the hurt and longing in his body, his heart and his mind prodded at him so violently and so desperately that he just needed  _ someone _ to hold him.

 

 “Hm, a courageous king certainly proves a fine leader. But what makes a  _ great _ leader is one who admits his fears and faces them… isn’t it, Noctis?”

 

 Still, he didn’t speak. But he did at least moan when the old man kneaded at the horrible knots in his shoulders.

 

 “Are you afraid of, perhaps, being alone?” This got him a tiny whimper out of Noctis, whose grip on his robes tightened. A smirk lit up the man’s face dimly, believing he had gotten to him at last. “Could it be… You are afraid of losing those closest to you? Your father? Your betrothed? And  _ your  _ innocent people, most of whom perished in the attack on the Crown City?”

 

 Noctis struggled to hold himself up, gazing blindly at the invisible face looking down upon him. His lip quivered. He was on the verge of breaking, and the old man could tell instantly from the way he shook in his arms. He was so vulnerable now.

 

 “And let’s not forget the three closest to you…”

 

 “Gladio,” Noctis gasped weakly. “He’s home… he and I…”

 

 “Yes, Noctis.” He held his chin, gently stroking the stubble. “Yes, your lover is just fine, as is that Argentum fellow. Though the same cannot be said of your poor Ignis.” He watched amused as a tear slid out of Noctis’s blood-stained blindfold, wiping it away with his thumb before it touched his scruffy cheek. “Or shall I say, the one you refer to so fondly as ‘Iggy’? The poor lad- someone shot him today.”

 

 His whimper fell out of his mouth like he had been holding his breath. His mind could only process the last time he saw Ignis smile, the kindness behind those sightless eyes; it still always shone through since Noctis could remember. 

 

 Shot as in ‘bleed out’? Dead? No, no it couldn’t be. He couldn’t believe that. Was he being lied to? Was he really telling the truth? Noctis didn’t know what to believe anymore.

 

 “Iggy? He’s not dead, i-is he?” The squeaky sound of his voice caught him off guard and he trembled in the man’s arms. “Iggy is okay, right?”

 

 “Perhaps,” he said, uncaring in the entire meaning of the word. “But you still have yet to become our True King, Noctis. That is what you should be worried about.”

 

 “But I’ve learned! I know how to be a king now, I-I can sh-show you! Please, let me go home, p-please?”

 

 “Oh, Noctis, I know you can! Show me then. Show me how a king shoulders the weight of his kingdom, the pain bearing down on him!” He threw Noctis off of his lap and loomed over him as Rufus came to them with a smoking hot iron, aiming for just below Noctis’s right hip. Two other men held his arms down, holding tighter as Noctis squirmed against them.

 

 He might have gone deaf from his own scream, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t think. All he knew was the horrible burning on his waist, smouldering skin into dark flesh that would forever discolor and wound his perfectly beautiful skin. Rufus pushed harder against his hip and Noctis howled, the only sound in the darkness that was his own. The fire blazed and flared against his flesh as the heaviness of the iron threatened to break his bone, the hot pressure working to mark him permanently.

 

 And then they all pulled away, leaving the king to groan in the aftermath of a taste of hell itself and the sickening reminder that he truly was alone.

 

 He had no friends here. He couldn’t even trust himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I get stuck with trying to explain what's happening rather than letting their actions speak for themselves... I dunno, I think I'm burned out with where I was going with this fic.
> 
> I'm not too happy with how this chapter turned out, but I hope you'll tell me how YOU feel about the progression of this story, and if you're looking forward to the sequel! I know exactly where I'm going with the sequel and I hope you'll follow it!
> 
> P.S. I think I meant for this fic to end, like, three chapters ago... Oh well, I hope you like it so far! Maybe in the next chapter I'll have something better.
> 
> Or maybe I'm just criticizing myself way too hard! Lol, I'm so hard on myself X(


	11. Final Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, you might have seen that I have turned this story into a series. And the first part of the story is almost finished, with one last chapter after this.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the end of this and the rest to come!

The moment the doctors announced that Ignis was stable and well enough to be seen, Gladio drove at demon speed to the hospital and burst through the front doors, demanding to visit with the royal advisor immediately. He needed to make sure his friend was alright, even if Ignis couldn't speak to or hear him. He just wanted to know if he was alive and breathing.

 He stood vigilant in front of Ignis’s room, watching the doctors and nurses shuffle by as he waited anxiously for the go-ahead to see Ignis. Finally, a surgeon approached him from down the hall and he straightened his shoulders, hoping he looked at least somewhat conscious; he hadn’t slept at all since Ignis’s accident.

 The doctor cleared his throat. “Lord Amicitia, it appears he’ll pull through all right. He’ll be a bit weak for a couple more weeks, and rather lethargic, but it’s nothing that a little rest can’t cure,” he smiled at the shield and Gladio practically beamed.

 “So... I can see him?”

 “Of course,” he nods and leads Gladio inside. “But try not to talk too much. A nurse will be in shortly to make sure he has everything he needs.”

 He hesitates by the door as he looks around the noisy room, monitors beeping constantly. He wants to go over and say something to his friend, but he appears to be sleeping, and Gladio certainly doesn't want to wake him from the rest he so desperately needs. Still, seeing Ignis, always the responsible and caring type, lying vulnerably and weakly in a hospital bed brought back that awful cycle of emotions he had succeeded in suppressing for only a few days before they hit him hard again.

 Since Noctis’s disappearance, Gladio just wanted to feel useful. He needed to have a purpose. Well, maybe taking care of Ignis  _ was _ his purpose right now. Maybe the gods were telling him to be patient, to wait for a sign of Noctis instead of trying to kill himself in his futile search for his lover.

 He shuffles slowly over to the bed, still very reluctant to disturb the resting blind man.

 Ignis’s head turns slightly. “Gladio,” he mumbles groggily, making Gladio halt. “Is that you?”

 The shield chuckles awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “Heh, h-how’d you know it was me, Iggy?”

 “A number of things.” A smile tugs his lips into a purse. “Mostly your heavy breathing… but what gave you away was the lack of confidence in your step.”

 Implied by the obvious cock of Ignis’s head, Gladio knows he’s right. “I, uh… I haven’t exactly been myself lately,” he says, carefully taking a seat beside Ignis’s legs.

 “You should know by now that none of you can hide anything from me. I may be blind, but I’m not oblivious.”

 “Never miss a beat, either,” Gladio muses, watching the heartbeat monitor squiggle bounce up and down. He finds little comfort in Ignis’s words. “I hope you can forgive me.”

 “For?”

 “For letting you get shot.”

 Ignis’s laughter lingers even after Gladio says his name, trying to get him to stop.

 The shield pounds on the bed and Ignis falls quiet immediately. “I don't see what’s so funny about it! You could've been killed!” Ignis opens his mouth to speak. “And don’t start on with telling me that ‘It’s good you  _ weren’t  _ killed! It’s not your fault!’, because it damn well fucking  _ is  _ my fault!”

 Ignis pulls the covers back up over his waist, hissing at the pain in his stitches when he shifts a little. “I wasn’t going to…” He says, quieter this time. “If I hadn’t mimicked your movements at just the right time, they might have pierced my heart.”

 Gladio hides his face in his hands and he’s shaking all over. “I’m so confused…” He starts to cry, but it’s not the first Ignis has ever heard. He leans over his friend’s legs and weeps, crying his apologies to him again and again until he’s worn himself out.

 Ignis holds him at arms length as Gladio’s sobs begin to die down and he’s able to pick himself up and sit straight. He still feels the tremble of Gladio’s body in his legs and reaches over to rub his back in an attempt to further soothe him. “I understand that confusion, Gladio. I, too, am exhausted beyond what I can handle. And this whole mess with Noct missing, and the royal council pushing for reformation beginning with a regent…”

 Gladio’s face firms into a hard stare. “What?”

 “Yes... I suppose I should have told you sooner,” Ignis says, and the more he talks, the hotter Gladio’s rage becomes. “The council gave us an ultimatum: if we did not locate Noctis within seventy-two hours they would proclaim his unofficial death and select a regent to replace him.”

 “Who the fuck agreed to that?!”

 Ignis halts his rubbing and lifts his head. “Gladio, we have no choice in the matter. There must be a ruler to uphold the law, otherwise the entire nation of Lucis shall become unstable and fall into ruin. We need someone to lead in Noct’s place.”

 “Then get Cor to do it!” Gladio shouts, getting up and pacing the floor. “Does he know about this?”

 “Every fiber,” Ignis states with a sigh, and suddenly, he feels sleepy again. Gladio notices and sits back down beside him, fluffing another pillow and helping him situate it behind his head. He lies back and pats Gladio’s arm, offering him a bloated, loppy grin. “Gladio.”

 Gladio meets his sightless gaze and listens carefully.

 “I don’t care what you have to do... just bring Noct back to us. Please, I trust you.”

 Gladio takes his hand and shakes it gently, shutting his eyes. “That they’d try to hurt you like that… It pisses me off more than you know, Iggy.”

 Ignis cocks his head to the side. “They tried to shoot  _ you _ \- you know that.”

 “Yeah, I know…” His confession angers himself even further, and he wishes Ignis hadn’t brought it up. “These idiots aren’t exactly  _ happy  _ for me and Noct being…  _ together _ .”

 “Not just that,” Ignis adds, “they must know you’ve been snooping around, looking for their king.”

 “ _ Their _ king...” Gladio huffs. “What do you think they’re doing to him?”

 Ignis hears Gladio tighten his fists and frowns. “I pray to the gods they haven’t crippled him, nor done anything to cause harm to the baby.”

 “He’s five months now - almost six,” Gladio says through clenched teeth, jaw tense. “Gods, I just wanna hold him…” He tilts his head to the heavens and lets out a suspended breath. “Thanks for saving my life, Iggy,” he mumbles, biting his lower lip.

 “I’ll accept your apology when you find Noct and bring him home,” he smiles and lets himself sink back into the pillows. “Then - and  _ only  _ then.”

 Gladio nods, then clears his throat. “I know… I promise you I’ll carry him home, Iggy.” Ignis falls asleep soon after a nurse comes in and checks his vitals, but before Gladio leaves the room, he bids Ignis farewell and repeats his vow in a hushed voice. “ _ I promise, Iggy… I told him I love him too many times not to…” _

 

__ 》》》》》

 Something sharp, something digging into his hip woke him up and he bolted upright with a loud scream. He reached down to try to rip it off, but it was too late when it finally pulled away, and his fingers swam in a bloody mess pooling at his waist. Wincing against the pain, he dives into the blood and finds he can’t even touch where the knife had just cut into his burn; his marred, seared flesh was unbearably sensitive. He hissed and let out a breath as he tried to trace the mark carved into his hip, but he couldn’t. It was too painfully raw.

 Then the ground was moving… no, wait. How can the ground move on its own? There’s a vibrating, and then a steady humming in his ears - like an engine. His hands search around and press on what feels like upholstery. Moving up further, he can make out a door… then a handle… and then a lock. He’s sitting on the floor of a van, and none too pleased with where he’s probably going to end up. He’s fearful of speaking in case the people with him in this car are waiting for the chance to beat him because of it, but he feels the need to hear another voice, another  _ human _ .

 Who he calls out for only solidifies for him that he truly is going insane - or just wanting to know someone by more than just a nameless  _ and  _ faceless voice.

 “Rufus...?” Oh, he sounds so horrible. His voice is raspy and hushed, barely audible above the grumble of the engine. But two broad hands landing on his shoulders tells him someone had heard him.

 “I’m here,” the man he called by name breathed into his ear. “What do you want from me? I thought I told you to stay quiet till we got there.”

 “I… don't remember,” he says, and then realizes he has a throbbing headache. He holds his head and kneads it, trying to alleviate the pain.

 “No, ‘course you don’t. We drugged you up pretty good back there so you wouldn’t be kickin’ and screamin’,” Rufus laughs, kissing the back of his head. “But don’t worry - I took good care of ya, Majesty.”

 He whined when the throbbing intensified. “Where… are we going?”

 Rufus laughs, and for some reason he couldn’t comprehend to save his life, Noctis laughs along with him. “We’re takin’ you home, beautiful! Believe that? I got a nice place. You’ll like it - promise.”

 Noctis’s heart soars at his words, and whether they’re true or not, he can’t bring himself to doubt him. The way Rufus spoke made him sound so genuine, like his words were full of promise.

 Noctis suffers a coughing fit before he responds. “Home? I’m… going h-home? I-Insom..nia?”

 “Well… yeah - home,” Rufus says, rubbing up and down Noctis’s arms. “Old man here’ll tell ya more…”

 “Jonas?” Noctis inquires, and receives a kiss on his cheek from those old, chapped lips. “Jonas, you’re… taking me home? ...why?”

 “Now, now, Majesty, one must never look a gift horse in the mouth!” He sniggers, caressing Noctis’s beard stubble. He threads a hand through his dark locks and brushes all the way down to his neck. “I am taking you home, Noctis, but I must make one stop before we arrive.”

 He finds himself… smiling - actually smiling at these men. These men, who for so long tried so hard to kill him without killing him. Perhaps there was still that hope his people hadn’t betrayed him. These men were Lucians - his royal subjects. Maybe he wasn’t wrong to still believe them even after all the torture they forced him to endure.

 He places his hands over Rufus’s and leans back against him, relaxing. “C-can I call my advisors and l-let them know I’ll be home soon…?”

 “Of course, Majesty,” Jonas tells him. “I’m sure poor Ignis would love to hear from you after so long.”

 And then Noctis remembers. Someone had hurt Ignis, probably because of him.

 “And your shield - oh, I’m sorry, Majesty… your  _ lover _ has gone crazy searching high and low for you. I’m certain he’s dying to hear your voice.”

 Noctis pulls away from the old man’s caresses and furrows his brows. “Wait…” He hesitates and tries to sit up, but Rufus holds him back against his chest.

 “I thought you wanted to go home, Majesty~” Rufus says exaggeratedly, hooking his legs over Noctis’s. “Or don’t you miss yer lover?”

 He knows now that he’s not going home, and he starts to struggle. “You’re not taking me home. Jonas, w-where are you taking me?” He hears the dialing of a phone and trembles, struggling harder again despite the protests of his aching, throbbing body. And then he feels that gurgling upset in his stomach and fears he’ll throw up again. But why?

 Jonas holds the phone to his ear and the words he speaks to the recipient are what Noctis dreaded the most. “Yes, may I speak with Lord Amicitia?”

 Though Noctis still can’t see, he can feel that ugly mouth grinning cruelty towards him. He’s then lifted up by Rufus and thrown out of the van, landing in another man’s arms when he hears Jonas speaking into the phone again. “No! Gladio! Don’t!” He yells as he gets thrown over a man’s shoulder and carried away from the van. The air is chilly, but not cold enough to pull his thoughts away from the fact that that wicked old man is on the phone with Gladio.

 “Yes, we have found him, m’lord. But you see, he is not well.”

 Noctis calls out for his lover one more time - “Gladio! Let me speak to him! Please!” - and then loses his voice in another paralyzing coughing fit.

 “If you’d like to see for yourself, Lord Amicitia, he’s… lying here in the Crestholm Channels - still and… dead,” the old man finishes, and tosses the phone over to Rufus so Noctis can talk to the droning of a deadened phone line. Rufus chuckles and holds the phone up to Noctis’s ear.

 “G-Gladio? Gladio, please… talk to me!” The line is dead. Noctis drops the phone and moans in pain as he bounces on a man’s shoulder. He can tell they’re descending, and from the horrid, suffocating odor assaulting them, there’s no mistaking they’re heading down into the Crestholm Channels.

 He’s lost all hope again, and he’s truly afraid he’ll never make it out alive.

 They descend even deeper, the murky, soiled water sloshing up on their legs and up to their waists. Noctis jumped when the freezing dirty water splashed up on his naked body and made him gasp.

 The smell is disgusting, and combined with the disruptive churning in his belly, it all caused that bile to leap into his throat. He puked in his mouth and a little over the man’s shoulder, and after he felt so dizzy.

 He was absolutely exhausted. Pain didn’t even feel like pain to him anymore, and right now, he felt as if he could be barfing up his guts. He’s had this kind of sickness before, only it felt a bit more brief than a real illness and he just wanted someone to rub his back.

 “Drop him,” Jonas demanded, and one of his men dropped him on the hard cement, his back cracking as soon as he hit the ground. “Majesty,” he says and bends down to stroke his chin. He tilts his head up and has one of his men undo the blindfold. “I am very disappointed in you.”

 Noctis rolls around on his back, writhing in pain as he fights with his burning lungs for the right to breathe. “Jonas! Please… h-have mercy!” He tries to push his unseen attacker away until he feels rough hands fumbling with his blindfold.

 “Mercy!?” The old councilman shouts. “Kings are never deserving of mercy! You shall never be anything more than you are now! You are no king, little Noctis. You are a child! A lost child, with nothing to offer these people but a sideshow of foolish, trifle acts!”

 Noctis cried out as he was thrown against the wall and fell face first into the dirty water. And he felt that the man’s words stung worse than the whip at his ribs. 

 “Your father weakly sufficed as king for a time, but it, too, was a blessing when he was killed by the great General Glauca! Had I been given the privilege, I’d have gone to bring down the Wall beside him!”

 The whipping continued, and Noctis didn’t have any more strength to cry out. They picked him up by his hair and held a knife to his throat. His gasps got caught in his windpipe and he choked on them, barely able to breathe. “Please… Please…”

 Jonas steps forward and kneels on his cane, motioning with a wave of his hand for Noctis to come. “Come here, Noctis…”

 Someone unravels the blindfold and it falls off of his face. Suddenly, the faint light of the tunnels is so blinding even though his eyes are still closed, and he expects to have the freedom to open them. But he gasps out in fear when a hand comes over his eyes and keeps them shut. “I can’t see where you are…” He wept, and he stumbles a bit trying to hold himself on his hands and knees with his broken finger.

 “You’ll find me,” Jonas answers, his voice low and menacing.

 Noctis crawls with a limp and attempts to make his way over to the old man, but gives a weak moan as the person covering his eyes scoops him into his arms. He’s so light now - too light to be considered healthy. He’s wracked with yet another fit of coughing, and this time, he can taste blood as he feels the urge to throw up again. “Jonas… I…”

 Jonas stands with a small wobble and cups Noctis’s face, smiling down at him. “Little Noctis…” He trails his wrinkled hand down his bruised, blood-crusted flesh, and when he moves over his sore breasts, Noctis arches and gasps softly. This makes the old man laugh. He stops his journey and ghosts over Noctis’s belly, hovering just above his navel like he’s casting some sort of spell. “You shall suffer, Noctis, just as your father suffered and your people suffered. You shall beg for death to take you before the end. And I promise you…”

 The hand moves from Noctis’s eyes and he opens them for the first time in almost two months. His vision is blurred and his eyes are sore, his dark blues dilating in fear. He can see just barely - but it’s enough.

 He kisses the king on the lips, taking his time to linger and force his tongue inside before retreating. “No one shall grant you mercy… because there is no mercy in the dark.” He raises his hand and the blindfold is strapped back over his eyes, fastened ever tighter than the last as he cries for help. “You shall be missed, my king. But no one shall miss you more than I.”

 The man carrying Noctis hands the king over to Rufus as he is brought over to a raging torrent of human secretion-turned-river. Rufus sighs and holds him above the water. “You know, Majesty… I’m really gonna miss our time together, but if you’re still alive when I come back, maybe we can fuck again then! How’s that sound?”

 Noctis sobs and grips as tight as he can manage to Rufus’s shirt. “Please, don’t… don’t leave… I c-can’t…”

 “Let him go, Rufus. His reign has ended and the line of Lucis…”

 The golden-eyed man releases Noctis to the torrent of murky water and the last king of Lucis falls to his death deep in the unforeseen darkness of the Crestholm Channels.

 “...is dead,” Jonas finishes with a heavy sigh. He sounds a bit sorrowful, but relieved to be rid of the royal family for good. “Rufus,” he muses, and Rufus turns to him, hands on his hips as he listens for that inaudible, fatal thud at the bottom - wherever it may lie. “It seems only fitting that the king die here… in the forgotten bowels of all the kings’ greatest mistakes.”

 

 》》》》》

 It was dark, so dark… and cold - freezing. He wasn’t shivering, so he knew his body wasn’t producing or couldn’t produce any of its own heat. His body was just as dead as he felt. When he tried to open his eyes, they were swollen shut and they hurt… they hurt like hell would never compensate for how much pain he felt in them.

 Even though his eyes were closed, he could see a tiny light, a blue light steadily growing bigger… and bigger until it filled his entire eyelids. And then a field of sylleblossoms appeared before him and in that field, he saw faces; the faces of people he used to know were smiling back at him.

 Lunafreya… Jared Hester… Ravus… his father, King Regis… Clarus Amicitia…

 He tried to smile, but he was too weak. He was lying on his back when Lady Lunafreya approached him and cupped his face. The only words she spoke as she gazed lovingly at her king, golden hair flowing gracefully in the breeze…

 “Everything will turn out right, dear Noctis... Now, rest. And wait... I promise, you will find your way...”

 Her voice was a sweet, gentle caress, and her appearance like an angel…

 Then everything went dark again.

 The next thing he knew was that horrid odor again, and he found it almost impossible to take a breath. His whole body felt sick and bruised and broken in so many places, that he thought he had truly died. But wasn’t death supposed to take pain  _ away? _ Okay, he wasn’t dead, so where was he?

 He hears a faint hissing getting louder and louder till his ears ring. Then a voice - female? Maybe? - starts speaking in incoherent blabs and vocal gibberish, like a phone was stuck their throat and it kept vibrating over and over. A trail of slime falls over his legs and he gasps, flinching at the cold gooey substance.

 The voice comes close to his ear and then a head - much larger than his own - nudges him curiously before he feels its slimy body coil around him and cuddle him close.

 He’s so tired, exhausted. He wants to give in to the sleep of death calling to him, and he thinks, well, why not? No one is coming to rescue me, what choice do I have? The darkness no longer feels threatening to him, but comforting in that it’s a steady presence. It won’t ever leave him so long as he wants it to stay.

 So, he shuts himself off to the world and falls into sleep. The last things he hears is the sloshing and splashing of water as heavy boots pound against this steel cage. And before he slips away, there is one sound that rings clear and true, calling out for him to come back. It’s one that he’s heard more times than he can count: at home, in the wilderness, both when he was young and now older, in safety and in danger…

 A sound he could die listening to, and know it would follow him into the afterlife… It called out his name, his loving nickname… and he knows that now... 

 It’s okay to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a draft for the final chapter already, but I'll wait awhile before posting so everyone following this story has a chance to catch up ;)
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read my work!


	12. Death of the Pendulum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the end of the beginning! I'm happy with how the final chapter turned out and I hope you are, too!!!

With one last swing of his greatsword, Gladio felled the giant Naga and she shrieked and disintegrated of purple mist into the puddle of muck and grime. He wiped the sweat dripping off his nose and shouldered his blade, glancing around frantically. “Noct!!”

 “Gladio, over here!” Prompto answered quickly before his voice cracked. It spoke to Gladio that Noctis had indeed been found.

 He dropped his greatsword rather than letting it fizzle out, but there wasn’t a question in his mind right now as to why the armiger wasn’t working. Noctis was found, and that was all he cared about.

 He raced for Prompto’s location, joining the other Kingsglaive inside a labyrinth of metal tunnels. And there in a corner sat his beautiful Noctis, covered over with a blanket by one of the soldiers. Stumbling toward him, Gladio dropped to his knees and reached out to touch him but faltered, clenching his fist at the sight of the blindfold. It had blood smeared on it, and he didn’t even want to think about the other cruel, wicked torture his king had been subjected to. 

 “Noct?” Gladio whispered, fingers shakily slipping over the blindfold and trying to pry it off. But it didn’t budge. He reached behind Noctis’s head and found a clasp that held the blindfold tight. He ripped it off and gently peeled it away, finally freeing Noctis’s eyes. He noticed there was a slightly darker band around his eyes that must have been from the length of time they had forced him to wear it. He held the blindfold in two hands like an offering and closed his eyes. “Prompto.”

 Prompto knelt beside him with tears in his eyes. “We found him, Gladio. And he’s alive!”

 “But we gotta get him h-home,” Gladio’s voice sounded broken as he turned away and rubbed his eyes. “He needs help. He… he needs help…”

 “This is no place for a reunion,” Cor finishes coherently for the captain.

 Nodding, Prompto stood and ordered the Kingsglaive around, telling them to ready the vehicles above ground. But he stayed vigilant beside his friend. “Gladio, want me to help?”

 Gladio shook his head as he picked Noctis up in his arms, softly gasping when his lover’s head lolled back. He cradled him close to his chest and walked him out. “No. I-I’m fine. He’s so light…” He doesn’t break down, but some tears fall along the way and Prompto knows and understands... that this is so much harder than his friend is letting on.

 On their way back above ground, every human sound Gladio heard led his desperate gaze on a return to his king’s pale, almost lifeless face. He whispered sweet words for Noctis to listen for as he slept, pressing tiny kisses to his cheek, willing with all his might that he could hear him.

 He prayed to the gods and the Astrals above that Noctis was only sleeping. The only thing that told him so was a faint beat in Noctis’s throat when he kissed him there, like his heart kept calling out for him to breathe.

 He couldn’t think straight, and now he couldn’t walk straight. He stumbled numerous times and almost dropped Noctis upon falling to his knees, yet he refused to hand Noctis over to anyone.

 This was his mission. This was  _ his  _ Noctis… He’d rather be stabbed a thousand times before he ever let him go - even for a moment. Prompto insisted he give him to a healthier, more coordinated Glaive, but Gladio’s response nearly landed him a foot up his ass. 

 He didn’t speak to Gladio after that, except to ask if he’d rather not drive home.

 

 >>>>>

 

 Doctors subjected Noctis to confinement as they examined him and provided the best care for their king as they could. They didn’t let a single soul into his chambers until Gladio came up to them like a feral, roaring lion, demanding that he be the only person allowed in. Coerced into believing that the king would indeed want to see his lover as the very first thing when he awoke, the doctors had no choice but to agree to the Captain of the Crownsguard’s wishes.

 Truthfully - he’d rather be called Shield of the King, if only for a reminder of who he really was in this spiraling abyss some called ‘fate’.

 Noctis remained in dreamless slumber for nearly six weeks, not even a petite sound drifting from his silent bedside. He was as still as the calm of the sea, vitals just barely thumping above normal rates. Doctors swarmed his chambers, snapping on latex gloves and shouldering cold, metal devices as they prodded and groped him for the signs of a life struggling to come back from the dark.

 Gladio slumped by his king, often stationed in that swivel chair for days without food or sleep. He drank water at least - he wouldn’t touch anything else. 

 Prompto was too exhausted to even try to bring Gladio back to his senses, and back to the work they had at hand. Of course he understood how emotionally and physically drained his friend was, but Gladio was needed by others just as much. He felt so alone as he worked for and with refugees on the other side of the city, sometimes unwilling to visit Noctis’s bedside for the undesirable sight of Gladio: stubbornly depressed and defiantly slamming change.

 He left it to Ignis, who responded to Gladio’s distant behavior as one might a grieving child. Gladio would - at rare times when he spoke to anyone at all - confess to the advisor that he didn’t understand, that he tried too many times to wrap his mind around it all. And even though Noctis was here, safe, cared for and lying beside him within the reach of a loving touch, Gladio still felt like he was a million miles away.

 Ignis would squeeze his shoulder, assure him Noctis was listening and promise him that Noctis would return to life, even when he doubted it in his own heart. The advisor worked a dead man’s shift every day, shuffling around as if he had been condemned to carrying half the weight of the world on his back. Not a day in his life had gone by without a doubt for Noctis’s life.

 He believes they’d all be better off if he had chosen a different path - a darker path ten years ago… He’d take it now - by gods, he regrets his decision worse now than ever before.

 When everyone - even the doctors - took to rest for the late hours of evening, Gladio resigned himself to tears. He’d sit there and scream at himself in his head, call himself names aloud, and then apologize with blurry vision and a shaky voice to Noctis for having to hear such things from him. No one could convince him to forgive himself, even when there was nothing to forgive! It was nobody’s fault what happened to the king, but Gladio closed his ears off to anyone who said otherwise.

 That stubborn voice chanted over and over how horribly Gladio had failed his king, how carelessly he had whispered Noctis an ‘I love you’ even after vowing he’d stand by him at all times. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to hit something, beat it down until he killed it, and then beg for its forgiveness as he sank to the floor and yelled for help.

 Gladio needed to hold out. He needed to hold on until Noctis came back and told him he loved him once more.

 He had already broken too many promises.

 

 >>>>>

 

 He had been too absorbed in his self-loathing to realize that Noctis’s belly was small again, noting that he wasn’t pregnant anymore.

 Wait…  _ what? _

 Ignis had to grasp Gladio’s shoulders to hold him still as he knew the Shield would suffer a mental breakdown had he endured this knowledge alone. With a grave face, the lead doctor informed them that during his horrific ordeal, Noctis had suffered a miscarriage.

 Gladio raged at this, jumping to his feet and making a rather embarrassing scene in front of Prompto, Ignis, the royal staff of doctors, even Cor as he threw his hands up and demanded they stop lying to him. There was no conscious effort on his part to where he could prevent himself from heaping blame on these doctors who were doing their very best for Noctis. For weeks, he carried a shattered grudge against Ignis for defending them.

 Then came the worst news of all, ramming into him like a speeding train wreck. 

 He didn’t want to believe it. He refused to believe it!

 “Are you…” Gladio had to pause for a moment to gather his feelings. He was about to burst into tears and shouts. “Are you telling me, that Noct is pregnant with another man’s… kid?”

 “Yes,” the doctor replies in a humble breath. “Yes, he is currently seven weeks along. The fetus seems to be developing fairly well, but there is a downside to this situation.”

 Ignis turns away, patting Gladio’s shoulder before he walks to the other side of the room. “Doctor, this is not a  _ good _ situation… that is what you are saying… am I correct?”

 Gladio takes Noctis’s IV-pierced hand gently, petting it with the back of his own. He brings it up to his lips and softly kisses his knuckles. “When Noct wakes up, can we… can we abort this…?”

 “Absolutely not, m’lord. The king is considerably weak, and any form of surgery could prove fatal,” he tells them, taking Noctis’s wrist to count his pulse. “It would be best…” He’s quiet so he can concentrate.

 “...if Noctis became full term and endured the pain of childbirth?” Ignis finished for him, lowering his head as he massages his temple.

 The doctor pulls the blanket up higher on Noctis to keep him warm, his tender flesh suddenly growing cold. “That is our best option, but I’m afraid this pregnancy will be horribly taxing on His Majesty’s body in the condition it is in already. He needs to rest for a while longer before he resumes his duties. He’s been through too much…”

 Gladio gets up abruptly and leans over Noctis to kiss his chapped, resting lips, but didn’t linger long when he realized the hint of disgust in the doctor’s eyes.

 The doctor slowly backs away toward the door, feeling unwelcome. “I’ll… leave you two with him for now.”

 Even without his sight, Ignis can feel all the anger, all the sadness, and all the premature fear for Noctis that Gladio has held inside for so long as he pads toward his side. As soon as Gladio takes a shaky breath, Ignis knows just how he’s going to sound when he speaks and he doesn’t want any of it. “Gladio-”

 “Iggy, he’s not going to survive this!!” Gladio shouts like he’s dying, pounding the wall with a fist as unsteady as the changing wind.

 Ignis is quick to put a stop to this, gripping Gladio’s shoulder. “Yes, he will, Gladio! Don’t say such things! He is stronger than you think!”

 Dropping his composure, Gladio lets loose and lashes out at his blind friend. He can’t hold it in any longer and fights against himself for pulling Ignis down with him. “Strong!?” He covers his mouth, afraid he’ll say something to regret later. “He can’t - He needs help, Ignis, he can’t do anything by himself anymore!”

 The furrow in his brows signal to Gladio that Ignis has become calm again. It’s a bit uneasy, but ever since the accident in Altissia, Gladio no longer sees his friend as perfectly mindful in every situation. He’s still human after all. “Would you…” Ignis gulps and takes a deep breath. “...like me to leave?”

 Gladio gently guides Ignis by his neck back over to his chair and offers him an ottoman, kneeling beside him. He looks into Ignis’s unseeing gaze as a student would his master: innocently apologetic. “No, Iggy. I don’t want you to go. I just need you to understand… Do you? That  _ I  _ need to be the one to provide for Noct?”

 “Gladio, I  _ do  _ understand, believe me. But…” Ignis places his hand on top of Gladio’s and stares sightlessly at him. But there’s a warmness to his eyes. “I need you as well - we all do. And I know you know Noct needs all of us if he’s going to endure this hardship suddenly thrust upon him… I’ve never been one to doubt your usefulness nor your strength, and it’s highly unlikely I will in this lifetime, but please… give yourself a chance to forgive yourself, and allow that healing to begin, Gladio. If you are not whole, then I am positive Noct will remain keeper of a broken heart. He will lean on you, and depend on you…”

 Gladio humbly lowers his head. Ignis is right - and he has to believe in his own innocence, but it’s so hard. “And I’ve got to be the Shield he’s relied on all these years… right?”

 Ignis nods. “Charge through your obstacles, Gladio. Lift the burdens of your own heart and set them free that you may find that courage to stand strong for Noct, for the man you’ve pledged your life and your love to. He deserves all that and more…” 

 “Truer words have never been spoken, Igs.” Gladio’s never felt more resolute than he does now, and it’s invigorating and encouraging to have finally found his place by Noctis’s side again. He smiles, a big grin that could have bridged the gap between fear of the past and rest in the hope of the future.

 But that small shred of reassurance vanishes when a helpless cry for him rasps in the quietness of the room.

 “Gladio…!?”

 Oh, that voice… Gladio has been longing to hear that sweet voice for almost a year now. He whips around, slams himself into his swivel chair, and tenderly grabs hold of the hand Noctis has suspended - reaching out for comfort - above his head.

 Tears flooded the older man’s eyes, carrying him back to what was to be their final night - Noctis’s last night before his sacrifice to end the Starscourge. Fear ripping out his chest, heart pounding with anxiety, and the sudden anger rising within his being with the realization he’ll never get to hold or see Noctis ever again…

 But that darkness has now passed, and Gladio is overjoyed yet wholly terrified by what this new dawn will bring.

 He has to swallow first before he can speak. “I’m here, N-Noct… I’m here, baby… Talk to me.”

 Noctis sounds as if he can barely breathe, his slight wheezing has Gladio on edge. “G-Gladio…? I,” he breathes hard, raising his bandaged left hand. “You’re so… blurry, Gladio… Oh, Gladio…”

 Gladio’s heart drops to his belly when he sees the weak twitch of Noctis’s ring finger, limp and reining his disfigured hand. He wants to break down and cry about it, but hears the echo of Ignis’s words in his mind and leans in close to his king’s face. “Noct,” is all he has to say as soft tears begin to trickle along Noctis’s bruised, fuzzy cheeks. “Noct, honey…”

 “I hurt,” he cries weakly. “Gladio…” His tears slow when Gladio lets him hug him close. The warmth of Gladio’s body, his presence is enough to settle all of his hurt. He’s home, and as he buries his wet face inside Gladio’s thick, brunette locks, he feels his voice leaving him in all this familiarity. The only thing he has enough strength left for is his tears, gentle tears that whisper to Gladio just how much he’s missed him.

 Gladio doesn’t let go, and he doesn’t loosen their embrace until Noctis cries himself back to sleep. He slips into the bed beside him and holds him to his chest, spooning his bruised and broken body. It’s a miracle - a true blessing to protect so precious of a man in his strong arms once more.

 Hopefully, for the rest of eternity.

 

 >>>>>

 

 Gladio is awoken from a deep sleep by pained groaning and a strained voice. His amber eyes shoot open and he flips over to face Noctis’s hunched form leaning over the edge of the bed. He’s heaving as his back arches involuntarily, hands gripping at the sheets.

 He shakes his tears away as he scoots closer and begins rubbing tenderly on his lover’s scarred back. He tries to ignore the deep rut of Noctis’s horrible scar along the length of his spine, fingers gliding through the pink, hardened flesh. “Oh, Noct… Noct, baby, you okay?” He knows exactly why he’s throwing up.

 Noctis heaves dryly now, slowly lowering himself onto his pillow. He glances over his shoulder at his lover, voice strained with exhaustion. “I… I don’t want this… Oh gods, Gladio...”

 Gladio can’t bring himself to look away from the pain in Noctis’s slitted blues. He simply nods, not having the heart to say it aloud. “I know,” he murmurs, mouthing the last word as his sadness overcomes him. “I know, baby…”

 The beginning of his pregnancy was for Noctis as painful to go through as it was for Gladio to watch, and within his first few months, it seemed like his morning sickness had latched onto him like a leech. Every morning was hell for Noctis, who was still already in so much agony from his ordeal, that he couldn’t so much as struggle through it.

 Nothing felt normal to him. Oddly, there were times when he felt as if he hadn’t escaped yet, like he was still captive and enduring that same brutal torture over and over again. Pregnancy is supposed to be a blessing - a wonderful thing.

 But his time back home in Insomnia was everything less than a celebration.

 When news of Noctis’s return had reached the ears of the Lucian people, most were relieved and toasted the king’s homecoming. Some treated it as fate had other plans for him, so they were satisfied. Others… well, they had their own reasons as to why the last Lucian king’s disappearance was not so horrible to begin with.

 There was tension - aggravation amid the people of Insomnia. Quarrels broke out among citizens, Crownsguard members, and even those of the royal council whenever their reigning monarch was brought up in conversation.

 Even within the private walls of the Citadel, that anger couldn’t be spared.

 “How you feelin’ this morning?” Gladio takes a seat on the king’s bed beside his Noctis, gently patting his hair. He tucks a loose strand behind Noctis’s ear and slides his hand down to cup his fuzzy face. “Good?”

 Noctis stares blankly at the comforter, only humming in response. He’s numb to Gladio’s caresses, not really wanting to be touched.

 Gladio’s fairly confident that his lover would rather him not be in the room, but when Noctis takes his hand and hugs it to his breasts, he finds he’s completely mistaken.

 “I wanna shave,” comes Noctis’s raspy voice. Looking up into Gladio’s blurry face, Noctis is afraid, but doesn’t know why. “Help me…?”

 “Sure, baby,” Gladio smiles, pecking his cheek. He’s a little unnerved by how Noctis flinched away from his lips, but he lets it go. “I’ll get the stuff… hang on.”

 As soon as his Shield disappears inside their master bathroom suite, Noctis gropes himself slowly. He’s slightly unaware of what he might feel has been done to his body, but there’s that gut-wrenching tug in his mind that already acknowledges the permanent wounds; his sorrow and heartache are etched forever on his beautiful skin and he knows it.

 He’s naked, so there’s no clothes he has to shuffle under. He starts at his hips, trailing shaky fingers from his waist down to his pelvic area, and finally feels his burn on his right hip. It’s charred and rough - leathery - and it doesn’t feel anything like human flesh; rather, it feels like the scaly epidermis of a Sahagin.

 He winces and drops his head, recounting the pain of said wound. Hesitant to continue, Noctis palms his back and nearly gasps at the sensation of shredded, abused flesh. He crawls his fingers gently along his spine but has to stop half way. If he descends any lower, he’ll regret it in the form of never-ending tears.

 Prodding at his baby bump, he’s conflicted on so many fronts. He wants to love this child, and then he doesn’t. The father of this child, he thinks, doesn’t even deserve life for what he’s done. And it’s in this moment that Noctis realizes how much he’s changed in just ten years.

 In a way, he kind of despises his compassion, his lack of hatred toward certain human beings and their evil actions. No more does he wish harm upon these people - even the man who nearly tore him apart from the inside. He’s desperate for someone to blame yet he negates all malice toward those men - Lucians…  _ his  _ people.

 He shifts just a little and goes to grip the blanket to pull it up to his belly, but his left hand is so painful and looks so horrid in its deformed state that he gives up and allows himself to shiver.

 Gladio returns from the bathroom then and sets to work on Noctis’s face, tying a bib around his neck and wetting the razor in a basin of warm water. “You sure you wanna shave? I mean, I think your beard is cute, babe. You’ve had it for a long time.”

 “I’m sure,” Noctis nods, rubbing his three-month pregnant belly.

 Gladio cocks his head innocently. “Wanna tell me why?”

 Now, Noctis is a bit irritated. He has his own reasons for wanting to shave, and to have Gladio ask him why, it feels almost interrogative. “Do I have to…?” Noctis peers tiredly at him.

 Gladio shakes his head obediently, brushing the cream on his lover’s cheeks. “No… you don’t. Just curious.”

 

 >>>>>

 

 Gladio hands him a mirror when he’s all finished, feeling a twinge of pride that Noctis trusted him enough to let him shave him. It wasn’t that Noctis  _ didn’t  _ trust him, it was just that through all of his suffering, Gladio might have guessed his king to be distant and unwilling in many things.

 But this was not to be. In Noctis’s eyes, Gladio was both a help and a friend… so far, anyway.

 Noctis looks back at his reflection. 

 Immediately, he regrets his decision.

 Tears well up as he scans over his bare face, smooth as a shard of glass. It’s too unfamiliar, and it frightens him, covering his mouth as tears run over his hand.

 “Aw, Noct, you don’t like it?” Gladio’s brows furrow in sympathy as he scoots closer to gently pull the mirror out of Noctis’s faltering grip.

 He’s shocked by how  _ different _ he looks, tracing a finger down his naked face. “I… hate it, Gladio. I hate it, it’s not me…”

 Gladio cups his face and turns him to look at him. “Of course it’s you,” he says softly, gazing lovingly into those beautiful blue eyes. “Probably just too big of a change right now, huh?”

 There’s a knock on the door.

 Noctis is quick to wipe his tears away, suddenly concerned by how he looks to his public. Gladio pulls back, eyes still on his king.

 “Come in,” he answers. He grabs a tissue from the bedside table to help Noctis dry his tears.

 “Majesty,” a young servant announces himself, entering with a small black case in his upturned palm. The sight of Gladio sitting beside His Majesty on the king’s _ bed  _ was completely off-putting for the boy. 

 He was a little too close to his king. 

 The servant slits his eyes in suspicious fashion. “Ah, Lord Amicitia, now you speak for His Majesty? I was aware he could speak for himself.”

 While Noctis ignores the servant’s rude remark by keeping his head down, he can feel the tightening of Gladio’s fist on the sheets. Peering at him from under his loose dark strands, Noctis sees that the darkness of Gladio’s glare has targeted the servant and aims to devour him.

 He places his weakened hand over Gladio’s fist, whispering, “Love, please…” Gladio reluctantly releases his grip and exhales harshly through his nose, respecting his fiancee’s wishes. Noctis wants to smile but remains solemn in appearance only. “Thank you.”

 Noctis watches the servant and notices that he’s careful not to step so close to them. He ponders the causality of his distance until the servant cocks his head and stares at his face, pointing like a child who’s never seen a grown man before.

 “You know, Majesty…” His tone sounds as if he’s about to suggest something inappropriate. “I think the people would see more of your father in you if you had kept your beard. They greatly revered him.”

 Something snaps in Gladio after hearing that as he gets up and storms over toward the servant. “Get out.”

 The young man takes a big step back and holds out the case with both hands in defense. “But, sir, I have His Majesty’s glas-”

 “Get out!!” Gladio roars at him, scaring him out of the king’s bedroom.

 Noctis sighs, coughing in the middle. “Gladio, why did you do that?” He holds his belly as Gladio walks over to explain.

 “He insulted you - his king! He insulted his king!”

 “He meant well,” Noctis says, causing Gladio’s rage to boil over. “He’s young, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

 “Meant well!? The little bastard mocked me, and insinuated that you’re unfit to be king!” He stands with his shoulders broad. “You’re just gonna let him get away with that?”

 “He remembers my father,” Noctis offers, blue eyes flashing at the older man.

 Gladio clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Right - he’s a fucking sixteen year old, how would he have even known your father?”

 “Have a little compassion on him, Gladio, he’s just a boy!” Noctis’s voice cracks slightly due to exhaustion and weakness, but it doesn’t stop Gladio from ranting.

 “So, am I supposed to just stand here and endure listening to these idiots call you names? Insult your honor? Judge your worthiness with no respect for you as a human being!?”

 “Yes!” Noctis practically has to scream just to be heard over his raspiness. “People will do, and say, and think whatever they will, but  _ you _ have to be different, Gladio! It’s  _ you _ who needs to lead by example!”

 “Turn the other cheek? No - no, I won’t do it, Noct!” He sits down and tenderly grabs Noctis’s hands resting on his baby bump. “I can’t let anyone who tries to hurt you get away with  _ anything _ !! Not anymore! After losing you, and knowing what torture you had to suffer through because I wasn’t the future husband I should have been…” He wipes both eyes with the sleeves of his shirt. “I can’t… I won’t let them hurt you ever again.”

 Noctis begins to empathize by pressing a tiny kiss to Gladio’s head. “Gladio, you must let me be king. You have got to stand beside me, not in front of me if you are willing to help me.” He takes Gladio’s chin in his fingers and tilts his head up, staring into his lovely, copper eyes. “You will be my wonderful husband, but I shall also be a king. This won’t be easy for either of us, my love…”

 Gladio’s mouth hangs open. “But-”

 “But…” Noctis pulls Gladio closer till he’s hugging his waist and snuggling against his small baby bump. Noctis can tell by the lack of pressure of Gladio’s head on his belly that his lover feels such utter devastation with the knowledge that this baby is not his. “... know that my love for you shall never be second place, Gladio. To be a king, I must rule, and you must allow that line between love and duty to be crossed even by the most despicable person in order for them to reach me… Do you understand, my love?”

 Gladio is listening. For the longest time, all he’d ever seen Noctis as was his lover, and closest friend. But king? No, he still hadn’t come to terms with that. Here, he had to let go of Noctis for the sake of the kingdom and the world. “Yeah,” is all he can manage right now as he relishes in the soft, steady beat of Noctis’s heart.

 “I love you,” Noctis whispers, resting his head on top of Gladio’s. “For the rest of my life, I want you standing beside me, Gladio.”

 “You know this will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, right?” He kisses his belly, making Noctis laugh softly.

 “Yeah, I know… But I have faith in you, my Shield…”

 Then Gladio’s sorrow returns as he remembers that this is not his child growing inside of his lover. “Does anyone know about… y'know,” he pokes gently at his belly.

 Noctis shakes his head, entranced by how adorable Gladio is acting. “Not yet. I asked Prompto to keep it a secret that I’m even pregnant, and he said he’d make up something about the Crownsguard taking in and raising a baby chocobo or… some kinda nonsense like that,” he says with a chuckle, suddenly feeling very tired again. He lays back against the mattress, yawning as he pulls Gladio with him. “Stay with me?”

 “Love to,” Gladio grins, shining warmly like a late summer sunset as he strips down to his boxers and creates a dip in the mattress that is so comfortingly familiar to the king.

 Noctis loves the quiet as the golden rays of the evening sun begin to light up the whole room in a brilliant orange-ish glow. He allows Gladio to snuggle close to him, burrowing his face between his breasts as he brings the comforter up and over them. Though the harsh scrape of his beard is a little less than pleasant, so Gladio goes into their closet to take out one of his big t-shirts for Noctis to wear as they sleep.

 The silence is both a blessing and a stark reminder of the darkness Noctis had to face all alone for so long, but as Gladio presses his massive, naked girth up against him, keeping him warm, he’s finally able to push that nightmare out of his mind.

 But only for a few hours.

 Noctis bolts awake in a terrible bout of sweat and screams, clutching his belly as he pushes away Gladio’s helpful hands. Over and over again, Noctis screams for his father and it’s such a frightening sound that Gladio won’t soon forget. He’s inconsolable, thrashing and crying as he clutches both his belly and the sheets, releasing them only to shove the swarm of concerned doctors and nurses away.

 Even as the nurses work gently to restrain him, Noctis continues his barrage of swats and slaps until Ignis protests their actions and offers Gladio as the only restraint.

 Gladio is reluctant to the farthest degree, even more so as he climbs on top of Noctis and pins his arms and legs down on the bed. Noctis becomes more violent, bucking off the bed in an attempt to throw Gladio off - which is, of course, futile given how huge his lover is. But the king is too lost in his night terror to realize this.

 “Noct,” Gladio speaks tenderly, trying his hardest to be gentle with his lover as he leans down and takes his lips, soothing him with soft, sweet words. “I know you’re afraid, and I’m sorry,” he kisses him again, Noctis’s wailing muffled but still just as loud and desperate. “But I’m here for you, and I love you, my sweet Noctis… My Noctis, you are okay. I love you, honey, please stop crying...”

 It’s no use. No matter how many times he tries, even Gladio cannot calm him. So, the doctors resort to their last option of drugging him to mask the pain. They noted that the source of this unpleasant suffering was not just mental, but also physical. Noctis suffered from the pain of childbearing, his body pushed much too far over the limit of what he could endure.

 The night was too long, longer than any night Gladio had been through and he just wanted it to end now. Though he was home and safe again, Noctis was still suffering from his ordeal. And from what the doctors had said, he’d be suffering through the rest of his pregnancy - mostly unaided by medical intervention.

 They ordered bed rest for at least a month, and Noctis couldn’t have been more upset, even though it was for his own good.

 Gladio groggily looked up from his nap by Noctis’s bedside and peered out the bedroom window. Even as the new dawn rose over the high city walls, the shadows of regret and despair loomed heavily in the air, and in both of their hearts.

 As far as Gladio knew, darkness wasn’t eternal...

 Or was it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next story in this series shall be posted soon... Thank you for reading "When Dawn Fades to Dusk" with me!! I hope you enjoy the next one!!!
> 
> Will you tell me what you thought of it? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have seen only one Older Noctis/Gladiolus fanfic and I personally think there should be more!
> 
> I just love to think how in love they are, especially when they're older and all rugged and scruffy and... well, I'll stop there.
> 
> Let me know how you like it so far!


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